Dance of Eternity
by Goten0040
Summary: In the city of Abd al Matin, he was transformed into a weapon. He no longer had control. That was the scariest part. Mozenrath-centric.
1. Regression

**Dance of Eternity**

_(Summary: In the city of Abd al Matin__, he was transformed into a weapon. He no longer had control. That was the scariest part. Mozenrath-centric.)_

_(Author's Note: _Aladdin_ and all of it's characters are copyrighted under Walt Disney Television and other respective owners. The title of this story is based off of "Dance of Eternity," by Dream Theater. This story is based off of various ideas and rumors floating around the web, combined with some of my own. I thought I'd give it a try. I hope you like the result. Footnotes are at the bottom of each chapter.)_

_**Chapter One**_

"Ah, would you look at that, Iago," Cassim said, gazing at the darkening horizon. "First desert rain I've seen in a long time."

The bird fidgeted nervously. "I hate rain."

"What? Why?" Cassim grinned widely at the remark, amused.

Iago grimaced, looking somewhat ugly as he thought back on his past. "I had to create a storm so Jafar could find Aladdin."

"So?"

"_I got struck by lightning, you jerk!_" he squawked loudly, filling the desert with his brash, unfriendly voice.

To which Cassim responded -

In choking laughter.

"Eh, shut up," Iago growled, choosing to silence himself amongst the older mans chortles.

"I'm sorry, Iago," he said, "But it _is_ quite funny."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hey, where are we going anyway?"

"There's supposed to be some sort of hidden city somewhere through here. Quite a few magical… and expensive… artifacts."

Iago rubbed his wings together as a human might his hands. "Ooh, sounds like a good investment."

"Yes," Cassim replied slyly, then his voice trailed back to normal. "But the problem is finding it. There's wards all over the place. Makes it almost impossible to find."

Iago frowned at the prospect of receiving no gold after their long trip through the desert.

"Fly above. See what you can find," Cassim ordered.

"You got it, boss," he said, taking off, his red wings exposed to the sky.

Cassim maneuvered his horse around the sand slowly, looking for any clue that there was even a city there at all. Perhaps that old man had been lying. Or maybe he'd been crazy. Looking back on the man's appearance, that could have been a highly likely prospect. He cursed himself for his insatiable nature to follow leads when money could be involved. _Then again, that's why you're called the King of Thieves._

"Hey, Cassim! I think I see something!"

He approached Iago rather quickly. "What? What is it?"

"Look!" he gestured at a twinkling object among the sand.

"Hmm…" he dismounted his horse, keeping hold on the reins so it would follow him. He stretched his hand out and picked up the object. "Seems to be some sort of gem. Maybe off of a turban."

It glinted against the setting sun. Iago fluttered down to Cassim's shoulder, examining it more closely.

"I don't think it's worth anything," Cassim said. "It's cracked and damaged. But it does lead me to believe that there _is_ something here."

"That thing… looks familiar," Iago said. "Where have I seen it before?"

"This? It's probably on millions of turbans."

Iago cocked his head to the side, taking in the detail. From what he could see, the gem was shaped almost half-way between a diamond and an oval, lined in gold, and all together looked like a ruby or a garnet. The color of the gem had been tainted with horrible weather and all together neglect, but Iago figured if it had been shined up, it would be a brilliant red.

"No… I've seen it somewhere in particular."

"Really?" Cassim held it up to the sun. "Where?"

"I'm trying to remember." He squinted his eyes shut, trying to think. He remembered that gem… being associated with blue… lots of blue… and gold. Black hair… pale face…

"_I KNOW!_" he exclaimed, flapping nervously. "Cassim, we gotta get outta here! We gotta go! Let's go!"

"What? Whatever for?"

"That thing belongs to a powerful sorcerer! And he wants to kill me!"

"You?"

"Well, Aladdin. But I'm a good freakin' start!"

"Iago, this thing is damaged beyond repair. Even if this sorcerer _was_ here, I doubt he is now."

"I don't know, Cassim. This seems like him. Magical city… he's always messin' with magical artifacts. The last time I saw him, he was looking for a new body. His was getting too weak. He tried to take Al's, but his spirit was too strong. I bet he's somewhere around here."

Cassim squared his jaw, looking a little indecisive. The bird was obviously alarmed at the fact that this sorcerer was around, but… then again… Iago had the tendency to be easily frightened. Cunning as he could be, he was really a coward.

"And who is this almighty sorcerer? And who's to say that I can't take him? Surely if my son can, I can."

"Cassim, Mozenrath is no easy guy to deal with!"

"Mozenrath, eh? I think I've heard of him. He is quite a sorcerer."

The rain was coming in their direction. Cassim eyed it with caution. "The rain's coming."

"Hey - you see something?"

"What's that?" He looked in the direction of the rain again as Iago did.

As the rain moved closer, a large shadow began to protrude against the cloudy twilight.

"The city!" he exclaimed, mounting his horse again. "Let's go!"

"What?! But-"

Cassim moved forward, ignoring Iago.

* * *

Within the city of Abd al Matin, was a large palace. Within that palace was a dungeon. Within that dungeon, lay a withered, pale-skinned man, shackled and silent. Any one who might have known him would not have recognized his skinny, obedient form. He had been reduced to nothing but a servant. He heard the clink of bars and swallowed thickly, not wanting to think of what was to come.

"How are you feeling?" came the bitter, sarcastic remark of one of the guards within the palace.

He cast a dead glance in his direction. The large man cackled, grabbing the boy's shoulder and yanking him to his feet. His legs shook slightly under his weight (or lack there of). The man gave him a golden-toothed grin, then callously threw him back to the floor.

"Your magic's coming in handy boy. We're so glad we found you."

He clenched his fists slightly, feeling his heart beat faster. He would have given anything for his gauntlet. He bit back cruel words, knowing what he would receive in return.

"You like having your hand back, boy? Being _normal_?"

_Being normal as your slave is far worse than dieing under my own control._

"Well, we've decided to do something with you," he said, smirking. "The master has decided to make you his weapon."

Mozenrath narrowed his eyes, feeling the blood rushing through his veins in silent fury.

"That's right, a weapon."

With those words, three other men entered the room, cloaked and looking almost withered with age. His eyes widened. _What are they going to do?_

Plans of escape flitted through his mind, but he had difficulty adapting to situations without his gauntlet. He wasn't Aladdin - he never had to really _acclimatize_ to any situation. He looked down at his right hand, now fleshy and pale as his left. He almost wished for the skeletal figure of it once more. At least then he knew that he had some aspect of control. Now, he was _normal_, and therefore _useless_.

The figures closed in, and try as he might to fight them off, he was weakened too much by malnutrition and the general weakness he had already experienced to do a thing.

All he could do was scream.

_**End of Chapter One**_

* * *

Abd al Matin - Muslim for "Servant of the Strong"


	2. Strange Deja Vu

**_Chapter Two_**

_Dusk had finally become night as Cassim moved slowly, stealthily into the city. "I've never heard of a city that only shows when it rains," he said._

"_Yeah, but the city on the back of a giant turtle, __that's_ realistic," Iago deadpanned.

Cassim smirked at the bird's sarcasm.

"Cassim, do you only find places that just frequently appear and disappear?"

"Well, Iago," he said, turning a corner and dismounting his horse to quiet down. "That's usually where the most valuable treasure is to be found."

"Yeah, I guess. I really don't want to be here, Cassim."

"Shh…" He tied his horse off among a small group of stallions that were grazing in some sort of magically grown grass. "There are people around here."

"It's a city. Of course there are!" Iago whispered, irritated.

Cassim pursed his lips, glancing at the area. "Look, Iago. There's the palace."

Before them stood a large building, very similar to the one in Agrabah, and yet… everything seemed so much darker. Cassim swallowed, feeling a small shiver creep down his spine. Something menacing was about. That, he was for certain. Perhaps Iago's unnerved attitude had a purpose.

"C-c'mon, Cassim. L-let's look for treasure somewhere else…" Iago stammered, frantically looking about with his yellow eyes.

"Hush."

Iago groaned, sounding even more worried.

Cassim approached the citadel with caution, and yet…

"There are no guards," he stated, slithering around the open gate.

"Where are they?" Iago squeaked, looking about.

"I don't know."

"Well, let's not _look_ for them!"

"Iago," Cassim murmured, hushing him once more.

Before them stood a door that had to be at least twenty feet high. It was rather intimidating, made out of black stone and laced with dark amethysts that twinkled menacingly. Cassim pulled the blue hood over his head and followed with the fabric that hid his mouth. Officially the King of Thieves once more, he reached for the door handle. The handle in itself was a rusted looking brass and very, very old. It helped him speculate the building's age itself.

"I'd say this building's been around for at least two hundred years…"

Iago gave a worried whimper as a response.

Slowly the door creaked open.

The inside of the palace was even more ominous than the outside. Once again, the dark violet and black seemed to be the theme, much like Agrabah's was that of gold and white. The place was most definitely extravagant, but it gave off such a foreboding aura that the richness of it all was forgotten. Cassim moved quickly and silently through large pillars, behind extravagant, dark, furniture, looking for any sign of the treasure room. Iago may have been right - the place was most definitely creepy, but he was stubborn, and wasn't about to leave a lead unturned.

"Iago, fly down the hall. Check for guards," he whispered, gesturing to the long, dark hallway to his left.

Iago gave him a withered look, but did as he said, flying far above in order to mask the sound of his wings flapping. The ceilings were so high, Cassim feared the echo would give them away, and yet the room was eerily silent. He watched the red bird hover for a moment in the middle of the hallway, then, as if he were human, gave him a thumbs up. Cassim's eyes twinkled and he rushed down the path, Iago, joining him on his shoulder.

"Cassim, I still don't think this is a good idea…"

"There!" Cassim interrupted, halting before a grated door.

Before him stood the treasure room. Through the greats he could see heaps of gold and artifacts. Iago had finally shut up in an excited happiness. There was quite a lot of treasure to choose from. Cassim breathed in heavily as if he could smell the riches. Just _being_ around so much gold made his heart beat faster. The life of a thief was not just enriching, it was exhilarating.

He glanced around, still a little unnerved that he had not seen a soul upon entering the palace, then began to work at picking the lock.

"Closer… closer…" he murmured.

Then, just before he made the final turn of his lock pick, a yell resounded throughout the castle that made him jump. Iago nearly hit the roof.

"We gotta get outta here! We gotta get outta here! _CASSIM!_" Iago panicked.

"Iago, stop it!" Cassim growled, grabbing the bird by the beak and ducking into a dark hallway. "We were so close…"

"They're gonna get us, Cassim. They're gonna kill us."

"Iago, enough. Listen. If you talk, they'll catch us."

Cassim leaned against the wall, straining his ears for the signs of anyone, a sound - anything that might have caused the scream. _Where was it coming from?…_ His dark eyes roamed the area and he was waiting… waiting… for… something.

He wasn't sure what.

* * *

Mozenrath had never felt a pain like the one he was experiencing. It was strange. For so long, he'd felt his body dying away, his entire being just disappearing into his gauntlet, and he'd never complained. Not once. Yes, it hurt. It hurt every day. Every morning when he woke up, he had felt it, his life slipping a little further away, but he hadn't said a word. In his mind, he had questioned if he had made the right choice, if his life was the right sacrifice for his power. Though it always seemed right when he had control of his abilities.

Then he had been captured. His gauntlet had been taken from him, and his captors had somehow… restored his life energy. He had started to notice the gruesome re-growth of his right hand, though throughout those weeks, his memory was very vague. With their previous experiments, he would awake probably every four days or so for a few minutes of blurry vision, only to fall back into unconsciousness. He had slowly begun to feel more alive, to feel the burn of hunger in his gut once more, to taste the sting of thirst upon his lips, and something he had not felt in a long, long time, a strange pang of loneliness deep in his heart. He'd begun to long for human interaction, and yet, when he got it, it was for something that worsened his condition.

For awhile, he'd been left to his vices in the cell, depending on the rats as his food, muddy puddles dripping from the only cell window for water, his own thoughts his company. He could remember eating his first rat, and being so shocked that it didn't bother him at all. His hunger was turning him into an animal, and he'd begun to think he would prefer death.

Now, he knew he preferred death to this torture. Pain shot through his veins as the three old men were muttering spells, each with one hand on his chest, shaping a triangle. He could feel something pumping into his heart, something boiling hot, something that shot through his skin like liquid fire. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he could hear the storm around the palace as if it was whirling around him, taking him away to some place horrible, some place where he would be punished for his crimes.

_Was it worth it? Was it really worth it? Was it worth this? Was it worth this pain?_

His eyes shot back open and he was on the floor, feeling oddly cold and dead. He dragged his right hand across his face, noting that it was still skin.

"He survived," croaked one of the old sorcerers. "I think I see why he handled the gauntlet for so long. I did think it was highly unlikely that a boy of his age could handle it and survive for so long."

"He was the reason for Destane's destruction, remember," came another sorcerer's reply.

"Yes, but he was only a child. No one knows for sure what happened to Destane. He'd gone soft for the boy. He was vulnerable."

"The great sorcerer Jafar feared Destane. This boy was definitely one to be feared if he took care of Destane." The third added.

"Jafar was a fool, as was Destane. Tie this boy up. We will take him to the king's quarters. We shall see what good he will do. If he does not meet our king's standards, we will kill him. Let him rot down here in the dungeon."

The guard grabbed Mozenrath by the shoulders and shoved him against the wall. His arms flapped almost uselessly against this sides. The guard roughly yanked them behind his back and tied them tightly. He could feel the blood pulsing in his wrists.

"Come on, boy."

He pushed him forward out of the cell. His legs felt rubbery and heavy, but he continued moving, unwilling to show anymore weakness to the guard. It was the first time had been outside his cell - he wasn't about to let a collapse ruin that. He swallowed the bile in his throat and pushed himself forward. The large stone door of the dungeon was pushed open with a loud bang and he stepped out.

He'd forgotten what clean air smelled like in however long he'd been down there. He'd kept count the first couple of days, but when the experiments started, he'd been unconscious for much too long to know what time it was. He cast his eyes around heavily, trying to get used to the new light. The dungeon had been so dark, and, even though the walls were so dark, the light from the outside was enough to make his eyes strain. He swallowed again, tasting blood this time. His hands felt hot; there was a tingling in his palms beginning to build. It woke him up slightly, his nerves on edge once again. He was so close to escape he could taste it, but he needed a diversion. He doubted he'd receive one.

"Speak once boy, and we'll kill you," said the guard, shoving him forward.

He scowled against his will, trying to eye the guard in his peripheral vision. As he did so, however, he saw something else. Something that caught his eye. Something… blue.

* * *

Cassim's eyes widened at the first sight of people. Three old men in cloaks were concealed to his vision, but he could definitely see their age in their postures. A large guard with ridiculously hefty arms moved behind them. He reminded Cassim quite a lot of Sa'luk - his cruel, toothy smile and blazing eyes especially. He wasn't interested in the guard quite so much as the boy he was shoving along. The slumped figure stood out amongst the group for some reason.

He wore ragged clothing that might have been rich at one time. It was a faded, dirty blue frock, ripped in places and frayed in others. His hair was a mass of tangled, matted curls that hung over his face. And his skin… it was a ghostly white. His entire form looked malnourished, ill, half-dead even. Then, his head pivoted slowly in his direction and he caught his eyes.

The coal black eyes sent a chill down his spine. Something was so… familiar. The eyes looked desperate, and yet strong and stubborn. They reminded him of someone. A puzzled expression crossed his face for a moment.

"What are you looking at, boy?!" the guard yelled, suddenly swinging his ridiculously muscular arm across the boy's head.

He hit the wall almost as if he were made of rags, pretty much unable to defend himself. Iago suddenly flitted his wings on his shoulder.

"C-cassim!" he whispered. "That's… that's _Mozenrath_!"

"What?" he glanced at Iago, surprised. "That's the _threatening sorcerer?_"

"I'm actually pretty surprised too, but it's definitely him."

"I don't think he's the bad man in this, Iago," Cassim whispered, watching the guard lay another punch across the pale boy's face.

"Don't mess with these guys, Cassim," Iago warned, looking frenzied.

Something about the boy's familiarity bothered him. He wanted to speak to him, and he had a strange urge to help him, deep in his chest. He wanted to free the boy from the clutches of the guard. Every time the man lay a finger on him, he felt his blood rush in anger.

"I can't let them do this."

"What? No! Mozenrath's _bad,_ Cassim!"

He looked Iago in the face, his eyes darkening. "You know very well that Aladdin wouldn't let this go on, no matter whom it was."

Iago shut up. Cassim could be very intimidating with his eyes alone. Though the bird couldn't help but wonder…

_Why is Cassim so attached to this boy?_

_**End of Chapter Two**_

(Author's Note: Here ends chapter two. No footnotes this time. I'm sure some of you are predicting where this will go. That's fine. In fact, if you have an idea, I'd love to hear it. Sometimes I incorporate my reader's ideas into my fan fiction, so I'd love to hear from you. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks for reading!)


	3. Panic Attack

**_Chapter Three_**

Despite the beating he was getting, Mozenrath couldn't take his focus off the flash of blue cloak, that is, until it disappeared. Suddenly, the guard yelled out as a pair of golden boots were brought down upon his skull. Those boots were obviously attached to the feet of the blue-cloaked man. He landed with an unknown grace, and Mozenrath took the opportunity to slam his bound wrists into the guard's chin, knocking him back.

The world began to move at a much faster pace. As soon as the guard had backed away, the blue-cloaked man swiftly pulled a dagger from said cloak and relinquished Mozenrath of his restraints. Feeling anew, he nonchalantly slammed his fist into the guard's stomach. He could hear the sounds of more guards approaching, and in the back of his mind, the sounds of the old men chanting. His hands felt as if they were pulsing now, moving along with his heartbeat, heavy and hot. Something about the man fighting next to him… was so… familiar…

Suddenly, a pain shot through his chest. He gasped, feeling his knees buckle. He collapsed to the floor, grasping at his chest, as if he could wrench whatever wretched thing that was hurting him away. He could hear the echo of the old men almost droning in his ears.

"S-stop it!" he yelled. His voice sounded so foreign. He hadn't spoken in so long, he'd forgotten what he'd sounded like.

The blue-cloaked man ran at the trio with fervor. Mozenrath watched, eyes wide. What are you doing? What's the point? Why are you helping me?

His hands were practically on fire now, and he wasn't sure why. His breath was coming in short gasps as he squeezed his fists tightly. A loud scream rang out from his throat, and his eyes rolled back in his head. He was gone.

* * *

"Cassim!" Iago yelled.

Cassim turned around to see a large aura of power erupt from the young sorcerer he had been assisting moments before. His eyes widened in shock as the large blast traveled toward him at an alarming rate.

"Let's get outta here!" Iago flapped quickly down the hall, and this time, Cassim couldn't help but follow.

_That boy… he's lost control…_

"I told you he was evil, but _nooooo_, we just _had_ to try and _save_ him!" Iago nagged as they rushed around a corner to dodge the blast. Cassim was fairly sure the old men disintegrated under the power of it.

"We had to do _something_!" he argued.

"Yeah, and we almost got killed. You're Aladdin's dad alright. I'm not freakin' surprised!"

The blast died away, and Cassim listened for something, anything, really. His ears were only cast silence.

"Let's go back," he said. "Check the damage."

Iago opened his mouth to argue, but had seemed to run out of complaints for the day. That, or he was just tired of arguing. Cassim assumed the latter after watching a few red feathers float by his face. The bird was, as he usually put: _so ticked off, I'm molting._ It was a little funny, but there were more serious matters at hand.

"Wow…" he whispered, stunned into silence.

The boy's power was enormous. The Great Hall that had once stood before Cassim had been diminished to a few ragged walls and the foundation. Cassim could see the high ceiling from above had collapsed, but there was no one among the wreckage.

No one but… him.

Mozenrath was sitting among the rubble, gazing straight forward, unmoving. His eyes were glassed over, and he hadn't spoken a word as Cassim approached.

"Boy? You alright?" Cassim swallowed, having not received even the most remote response.

He waved his hand in front of his face. The boy continued to stare into the open air, his breath shallow and quiet. Cassim exchanged disturbed glances with Iago, then looked back to Mozenrath.

"Cassim, I think he's snapped!" Iago whispered.

"Boy? Hello? Are you still in there?"

Cassim grabbed Mozenrath's shoulder and gave him a shake. He barely responded, his eyes lagging slightly in Cassim's direction.

"Come on," he said. "Up you go."

He put his hands under the boys arms and pulled him up. He swayed like a rag doll. He sighed, pulling Mozenrath's arm over his shoulder, and attempted to lead him out of the wreckage.

"Cassim, you can't be serious," Iago growled.

"Iago, I just want to help him out of the castle. Honestly, how could you even think to leave him here like this?"

"_He's nuts!_ Don't you get that, Cassim? He just tried to kill everyone!"

"There was no possible way he could control that."

"Cassim, what is wrong with you?! What… makes this… kid… so important to you?!"

He sighed. "I don't know, Iago. I guess he just… reminds me of my son."

Iago rolled his eyes. "If this kid reminds you of Aladdin, Cassim, you really are way too homesick."

"Maybe I am, but I'm not leaving this young boy here."

"Fine. Whatever. It's your funeral."

* * *

_A young boy stood before the large palace among black sand. His dark curls licked at his sun-kissed face, the wind whipping around him violently. He was very aware of where he was, and very aware that he wanted to leave. But he refused to do so. He had to make some money. So when the great sorcerer Destane had found him among the dirty streets of his homeland, he had decided that it was the only way to provide for his family. Destane led him with his palm on his back._

_He was only ten years old then._

_The man led him into his citadel. "You will assist me on my experiments boy, and clean up afterwards. You will receive two meals a day, a resting place, and you will be paid for your work. I understand you are working under me for a reason._

"_I've always been interested in the aspects of the magical world," the young boy replied. "And I want to make money to support my family. This seemed like the only job I could do. I certainly hope I can learn as I work."_

"_You're very bright for a boy your age. I look forward to teaching you everything I know. Come along."_

Mozenrath opened his eyes slowly, feeling sore and confused. The air smelled wet and sandy - a desert rain had apparently passed through. His eyes roamed around. He could see the stars, the brilliant stars that he hadn't seen in so, so long…. He could feel the chill of the desert night air, and the feel of it brought the realization to him that he was actually _free_.

_I'm free. I'm not in the dungeon anymore…_

He sat up slowly, glancing at the meager fire flickering against the embers of old sticks. On the other side of the fire was a figure, obviously asleep. _That man… he… saved me._ His entire body felt heavy. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the mats and dirt and grime in it. It was the first time he'd ever had the chance to notice how much he had changed. He didn't have a mirror, so he'd only guess his changes by feel alone. He crawled silently over the man's pack, pulling out a canteen with a reflective surface.

When he looked at himself, he had to close his eyes for a moment. Yes, he had changed a lot. His skin was just as white as he remembered - he hadn't seen the sun in Allah knew how long. His eyes were sunken and dark. His skin was covered in grime from his imprisonment, and his lips were dry and cracked. He could make out a large black bruise on the side of his cheek (from where the guard had hit him, he assumed), and there was dried blood from his lip to his chin. _I bit through my lip…_

His hair was worse than what he imagined by feel alone. It had grown substantially, and it hung in gross, matted curls, midway down his back. He opened the canteen and took a swig of the water inside. He felt the cool liquid drift down in his throat in one refreshing gulp. He sighed slightly in the pleasure of his first drink of clean water in a long time. He capped the canteen and placed it back within the man's pack.

_Now… why did that man--_

His thoughts were frozen as he gazed at the flash of red nearby.

_I… know… that… bird._

He swallowed. Aladdin couldn't possibly have been the one to save him. He slinked over to the man, noting he was no longer cloaked. With a sigh of relief, he realized it wasn't Aladdin. _Though he does look a lot like him… Hmm…_

Either way, he knew he couldn't stay. The man's generosity was kind, but he didn't approve of charity. _Why should someone show me kindness when I have done nothing to earn it from him?_ The man bothered him, really. He was so familiar… and it wasn't the fact that he looked so much like Aladdin. He seemed to be from some forgotten dream, or maybe even a nightmare. _I need to get out of here._

He crossed his arms, the night's chill getting to him, and struggled to turn away from the camp fire. He began to move away from them, into the desert sands.

"Judging by the moon's position," he murmured to himself, "I'm going west. Surely there's a village somewhere nearby."

He traveled into the night, ignoring the weariness he felt deep within his body. So many years he'd gone without feeling tired - just noticing his body slowly degrading away. Now that it had been restored, he felt fatigue, hunger, thirst. In fact, all three feelings were plaguing his system as the sun began to peek across the horizon. He welcomed it at first - anything to take the chill of the night away. He felt as if he'd practically frozen to death moving across the sands, and had seriously thought about going back to his rescuer multiple times, but his stubbornness prevented it.

Of course, he didn't welcome the sun for much longer.

About ten o' clock, he'd guessed by the position of the sun, he'd broken down into a full sweat, the heat bearing down on him as if he was walking through Hell itself. His tongue felt dry, sticking to the insides of his mouth, and he blinked multiple times not only to move the sand out of his eyes, but to see a bit straighter. He was beginning to dehydrate. He needed to get some water or he would surely die. Perhaps not right away, but most of his fluids were pouring from his skin - the drink of water from the man's canteen long forgotten among the desert.

He gazed upwards to see a village beginning to develop on the horizon. _Is it a mirage? Am I that gone?_ He approached it slowly, not wanting to be optimistic for fear he would be disappointed. Disappointed might have been putting it a little lightly. He stumbled suddenly, his knees finally buckling under total exhaustion, and fell face-first into the sand. He coughed and sputtered, trying to lift himself back up. His body wouldn't listen to his brain. It was giving up. His vision began to blur.

"Adalia! Come look! There's a boy out here!" He could hear a voice drifting into his mind right as he blacked out.

_**End of Chapter Three**_


	4. Innocence Faded

_**Chapter Four**_

He awoke suddenly with a start. A freezing splash of water had been thrown on him, and he bolted upwards, his body not used to the shock.

"Allah!" he hissed, somewhat annoyed at the very rude awakening.

He glanced around with wild eyes, only for them to focus on two children, looking very surprised and very afraid. There was a girl who looked about twelve years old, and a boy who appeared to be seven or eight years old. Fatigue setting back over him, he blinked heavily, leaning back on one hand.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name's Adalia," said the little girl, "And this is Rashid. Who are you?"

"It's not important," he said, ignoring her, looking around, trying to gather his surroundings. "How did I get here?"

"We dragged you here," Rashid said. "We thought you were dead."

"Why in Allah's name would you drag a dead man into your village?" He narrowed his eyes at the young boy's stupidity.

"Well, you're not dead," Adalia replied, looking rather protective.

"Obviously. Do you have anymore water?" He hated asking, but he was parched.

"Oh, of course. Here," Adalia said, handing him a wooden bucket, filled to the brim with water. It didn't look very clean, but he wasn't about to complain. He drank it down rather sloppily, then wiped his lips. "Thanks, kid."

She smiled. He didn't.

"What were you doing out in the desert?"

"It's not important."

"Sure it is-"

"It's _not_." He glowered at her, finishing her sentence before she did. "Now, tell me where I am."

She nervously played with her feet. "You're in Sarkis."

"Sarkis, eh? Haven't heard of it."

"We're a very small village," she finished.

"Obviously." He stood, swayed slightly, but kept his footing. "I need to get to the Land of Black Sand."

"Land of Black Sand? Where is that?" Rashid asked.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Mozenrath growled in return.

"Maybe the village elder can help you!" Adalia supplied.

He looked at her up and down. The young girl's hair was tied back away from her face, and she was very pretty, though both looked like street rats. The boy had the same eyes as she did, though her eyes held a bit more intelligence. He sighed, frustrated.

"Fine. Take me to him."

The children led the way. Mozenrath trudged along behind them, irritated. This was ridiculous. Why did he have to be dragged in my children? His hand absently trailed behind his ratty hair, touching his neck. It had been rubbed raw by the sand. He swallowed thickly, his mouth still dry. He felt as if the water hadn't even touched his parched lips.

"This elder of yours… how old is he, exactly?"

"He's lived ninety years," Rashid said, smiling.

"Ninety _years_? Allah… this should be interesting enough."

The smile vanished from Rashid's face. Mozenrath obviously wasn't making a very good impression on the children, but he truly didn't care. He wasn't out to make friends. He wanted to get back to the Land of Black Sand.

The girl opened a small cloth flap attached to a decrepit, stone house. Mozenrath stepped inside, only to find dirt to continue to be the floor inside. Not only was the village small, it was poor - very poor. In the back of the hut set an even more decrepit looking man, his legs folded, meditating. He wore a dirty brown-orange cloth, draped around his skeletal, wrinkled form, and he murmured phrases to himself. It seemed any hair that had once been on the mans head had traveled down to his dark-chin, a stark, white contrast to his skin.

"Excuse me… elder…?" Adalia meekly moved forward.

The old man opened his eyes slowly and looked down upon the girl. In the kindest voice, he asked, "What is it, my child?"

"This man has come to our village, and he needs help-"

"I don't need _help_," Mozenrath interrupted. "I just need to be pointed in the right direction. Listen, old man. I need to know how to get to the Land of Black Sand."

The old man didn't seem phased at all by Mozenrath's attitude. He blinked a few times with large, black eyes. He studied Mozenrath carefully. He stiffened under the old man's scrutiny.

"Could you answer me, old man?" He hissed.

The old man nodded. "You were not originally from the Land of Black Sand, were you?"

"Wh-" Mozenrath almost stumbled over his words, angry. "What does that mean?! Tell me where it is!"

"I will tell you, young man… in due time."

"No! Tell me now, old man!"

As his blood pressure rose, he could feel a burning in his hand, below the skin, twisting around the bones as if the gauntlet had never been yanked from it and the skin was still rotted away. The burning began to coil up his arm and through his body. He couldn't help but be a little scared over it. It only enraged him further at the elder's lack of assistance.

"You are not who you seem."

"Stop analyzing me! Tell me where the Land of Black Sand is!"

The old man's pale, weary eyes cast upon him. They shot through him so quickly that he felt his words vanish from his throat.

"You, boy, are going to be faced with reality quite soon. Your black sand will not save you."

"I've already been _faced_ with reality!" he yelled. "Have you not _looked at me?_"

The old man gazed through him as if he were a ghost.

"Yes, you have been through very harsh times…. I can see that very clearly. There is more to come for you, young-"

"Mozenrath. My name is Mozenrath," he spoke defensively.

The old man smiled almost knowingly. It made him nervous.

"Look, if you're not going to tell me anything, I'll go find it myself."

"Ah, yes. You've done so well so far-"

Mozenrath heard a large ceramic pot crack and then shatter. He whirled on it. _Did I do that?!_

His anger…

_I need to keep that a bit more in check. D-did I seriously do that?_

The lack of control sent a cold spike of fear into his gut. The old man hadn't even flinched. His face was still that gentle, sickening smile that infuriated him.

"The Land of Black Sand is west from here - quite a ways, actually. You were headed in the right direction. I wonder, my boy - what draws you to that awful place?"

Mozenrath ignored him. Now that he had the information he needed, he didn't feel like asking anymore questions. His mind was racing. _I need to get food, water, and maybe a camel or horse. I don't think I'll find that in this town. This whole place is destitute. A cloak might be a good idea too…_

He gazed around the desolate village, his onyx eyes searching for anything that could be of use to him. He quite honestly didn't care whether it bothered the villagers or not. He had somewhere he needed to be.

"So I was headed in the right direction. Old man didn't have to beat around the bush…" he muttered, digging around in a pile of what looked like trash.

_This is ridiculous. I, the great Mozenrath, reduced to… to _this_!!_

He yanked an old piece of dirty brown cloth that was about as long as he was tall and tied it around his shoulders. He managed to arrange it so he had a hood to shield his eyes from the desert sun. His stomach growled, protesting the lack of food in his system, and he growled. _I'd rather be wasting away with my gauntlet than have this… ridiculous need for food and water! I want my power back! I want my control!_

He scowled as he heard the little feet rush behind him.

"What do you want now?" he hissed in their direction.

"Where are you going to go?" Adalia asked.

"I'm going home. Unless you have something I can use, I suggest you two get back to your gritty little shacks."

He whirled on them to give them more lashings of words, but his voice caught in this throat. The young girl held protectively to her brother, both of their sad, sad, dirty faces looking up at him with large black eyes. He gazed at them, feeling something arise within him, blurring his vision and distorting it to something he couldn't really remember.

"_You're going to protect him, Makin. You're going to be a great big brother," a soft, cooing voice echoed in the confines of his long forgotten memories. "Your father dubbed you the man of the household."_

He shook his head, closing his eyes tightly. He sighed as the reverie vanished before he could put detail to it.

"Okay. I need some food and some water to take with me. Do you have any I can have?"

Adalia exchanged a look with Rashid. The boy finally nodded slowly. "We don't have very much, but we can help you."

Mozenrath couldn't help but be surprised. "Why are you helping me?"

"Well," Rashid answered, almost as if it were a perfect fact, "You want to go home. We all want to go home, don't we?"

The boy was so young and naïve. _Soon he'll understand what this world has to offer him… nothing but pain and sacrifice for anyone below the high ranking line. He'll have to work his way to the top to be happy, _He thought slowly.

A bitter afterthought: _Or marry into it like that street rat, Aladdin._

Adalia and Rashid led him to their humble home, which was actually just as small as the elder's shack. He gazed at t he dirty, stone walls as he heard the girl dig around inside.

"Where are your parents?" he asked rather gruffly.

Rashid didn't look up, just stared at the small house as if the answer would write itself on the wall. "They died a long time ago."

"Oh."

He had nothing more to say on the subject. Apparently, Rashid did.

"What happened your parents?"

He glanced at the boy for a pause, glowering at him. Rashid cowered under his gaze until it softened slightly as he thought…

"I… don't remember."

"Well, perhaps your travels will enlighten you. The village elder says that a long journey can cleanse one's soul and help one's mind grow wiser," Adalia stated with an odd amount of hope, carrying a small pack of bread and a canteen of water.

She handed it to him slowly, the backed away, polite.

He looked at her generous offer, then to the kind, innocent faces, staring up at him with hungry, tired eyes. They reminded him of someone… long ago… but the details were fuzzy. He reached into the bag and pulled out a stale piece of bread, divided it in half, and handed it back to her.

"I can survive on less than this."

She smiled softly as he turned away, back into the desert, feeling very strange.

For the first time in what he felt might have been forever… Mozenrath had done something… kind.

_**End of Chapter Four**_


	5. Vacant

**_Chapter Five_**

"I told ya', Cassim - the kid's no good. But _nooooo_, 'let's save him!' ya' say! 'He needs help!' ya' say!"

"Iago, shush. He didn't take anything," Cassim said rather flatly, staring at the empty spot where the sorcerer once lay. "In fact, he's lucky if he's still alive out there in the desert without water. I… I can't believe he slipped away without me knowing!"

"Trust me, Cassim, if there's anyone sneakier than you, it's Aladdin, and if there's anyone sneakier than _him_, it's Mozenrath."

Cassim raised an eyebrow. "No one is sneakier than me."

"Right. _My bad_." Iago rolled his eyes.

Cassim shot him a dirty look as he shoved the canteen back in his pack. He would be lying if he wasn't a little perturbed that he didn't even hear the boy. _He must be ridiculously quiet. I guess sitting still in a dungeon for an amount of time might create a silence like that…. I would have at least appreciated a thank you._

"I don't know why you were so caught up on that kid anyway," Iago perched himself on Cassim's shoulder. "He makes me nervous. Look at me. _Look at me!_ I'm _molting!_"

"You always _molt_, Iago."

"Yeah… well… eh, I don't care."

Cassim smirked at his victory. "Well, he's gone now…. It's a shame. I wanted to ask him some questions. I'm a bit worried about his condition. He was completely out of it mere hours ago. Something's not right in his head-"

"_That's what I've been trying to tell you!!_" Iago screamed.

Cassim promptly massaged his sore ear. "That's not all I wanted to know, though. He was so… familiar…. He reminds me of…" he paused. "No… no. That's not possible. He died a long time ago."

Iago paused in his ranting and raving, an odd first. Cassim had obviously said something that interested the parrot.

"Who?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. So what do you think, Iago? Should we tell Aladdin that we ran into his little friend?"

Iago shuddered. "Trust me. If I know Mozenrath like I think I do, I'm betting he'll be the first one to tell Aladdin he's back."

Cassim mounted his horse - thankful the creature was still there after the youth had made off without his knowledge. It messed with his head. _I'm the King of Thieves!_

"Do you really think that kid can recover fast enough to beat us to Agrabah?"

Iago gazed at the horizon, presumably where the sorcerer had taken off to. "Well, Cassim, I hope not."

…

It had been two days. Two, full, twenty-four hour days. His legs were straining in what was left of his boots. His skin was sticky, yet dry - he was pretty sure he'd run out of sweat. He kept the hood of his self-made cloak far over his eyes, and his matted, disgusting hair irritatingly stuck to his neck. His lips were crusted and chapped, aching almost for more water.

He'd finished off all his food and water mere hours ago.

Still, he strove forward. The Land of Black Sand was not far. He could feel it - the pull of his home. He could smell the air and sense the familiarity of it. The sands were beginning to darken with the sky. He smiled a bit in spite of himself. Oh, he was almost home! It meant more than anything. He could get out of his rags and change into something far more suitable. Oh, and wash his hair! Of course, at the moment, he was severely wondering whether or not he should cut it off completely. He looked down at his hands, blinking in a dehydrated delirium.

_I've got a little more color in my skin. Imagine that._

Before he knew it, he was coming upon his kingdom, the large and ominous tower that he had spent the days of his youth…

Or at least the ones he could remember.

He gazed up at it as he once had a child with Destane at his side, the leering, powerful figure that he once feared, and then once defeated.

_I'm… home._

There, before him, stood the large double doors, etched with the kissing snakes upon the dark, gray walls. It almost seemed to block out the scathing sun he'd been fighting for days. He almost wanted to drop to the ground and kiss the sand. Oh, there was so much to the place that no one understood but him.

With a new found strength, he pushed himself against the door. With a loud groan and quite a bit of energy, he managed to get it open enough to get his tiny form inside. He had to compose himself for a moment before he began to make the trek up the stairs to the tower where his bedroom had once been. _Xerxes isn't here. He's gone… I guess… I guess he took off. How long have I been gone? _He swallowed, trying to quell the stirring feeling of loneliness in his gut and move forward.

Finally, the bedroom door surfaced into his vision. His eyes widened in a strange, unfound joy, and he rushed into the room, nearly knocking the door off of its hinges. There was hardly any water and no food in the citadel, because when he had been somewhat immortal, he hadn't needed it. Xerxes found his own food. He was regretting the decision now. He fell upon a bucket near the window that had gathered water from the rain from two nights ago - and many other nights judging on the water-rotten floor around it. He didn't care how dirty it might have been. He drank the whole thing.

Unfortunately, he hardly felt refreshed. His stomach ached and churned under the new sensation, and he fought with his body to keep what was left of his food down. _I hate this. I never had to deal with this when I had my gauntlet._ He stumbled away from the window only to collapse to the floor once more to lose the food that he had just so desperately tried to keep down. His stomach lurched and burned, but he forced himself to his hands and knees to crawl into the bathroom.

_This is the worst I've ever felt. I don't think I ever remember being in this bad of shape._ He brushed the back of his hand over his lips as he collapsed back against the large tub. _Ohhh… I hate this. I hate this…_

His eyes trailed lifelessly over the large room, the towering black walls, the ominous patterns about the area. Perhaps he should have hired and interior decorator after Destane had quickly fallen to his doom. _Get yourself together, Mozenrath! What kind of sorcerer are you?!_ He pulled his weary form to his feet, lurching over to the large mirror nearby. He gazed at himself, his sickly features and matted hair. Perhaps getting clean could bring him back to his senses.

He ran water into the large, midnight colored tub, watching the clear liquid swirl his reflection into something distorted. His finger trailed along the surface. Cold. No. Freezing. That's how he wanted it. Cold water reminded him he was still alive. He closed his eyes, then slowly pulled his cloak from around his neck and let it fall to the marble floor. Next came his shoes, and then his shirt (which had to be removed rather slowly as to not pick at any old, scabbed over wounds). As he let the ragged piece of clothing fall to the floor, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

He nearly choked.

There, upon his filthy, bloody chest stood a clear branding of a triangle. It was a deep purple, almost a bruise upon his ivory skin. He ran his fingers over it slowly, almost in shock.

_Allah…_

He honestly wasn't sure what it was. Then again, he hadn't really been conscious for many of the experiments conducted at Abd al Matin, so he wasn't sure when or how he might have acquired the odd marking. He shuddered at the very thought of ever going back there.

_They're going to come after me. I know that. I've got to do something. I need… my gauntlet._

His eyes narrowed. He knew exactly where he had to go to get it.

_Agrabah…_

He abruptly turned the water off, pulled the rest of his clothing off, and stepped into the tub.

The water hit him like icy needles, shooting through his skin in sudden bolts of pain. He refused to get out, however, and it soon numbed against him as his head sank completely under. For a moment, his mind told him to just stay under the water, release his air and just die peacefully, floating away to some land he couldn't remember.

"_Makin," a deep, strong voice spoke in almost a whisper. He could feel a calloused hand on his cheek, but his vision was blank. "I want you to take good care of your mother. I know you'll do your best."_

"_Why do you have to leave?" A child's voice echoed, strained with tears._

"_I have to do this, Makin. Please just trust me. I love you, my son."_

With a large gasp, he broke the surface of the water once more, his hair dripping in his face. His lungs expanded happily with new oxygen. He hung his arms over the side of the bathtub, his forehead pressed against the cool sandstone of the tub.

"_I love you, my son…"_

He felt his eyes begin to burn, and he wasn't sure why. The room was so quiet - even the water seemed to cease in it's swishing sounds. He buried his hands in his hair, his mouth twisting rigidly. Allah, the pain in his chest was agonizing - but it wasn't coming from the mark upon it. That, he knew. No, it was something much deeper, something he had not experienced in years upon years. He was alone.

"_I love you my son…"_

He felt the hot, salty tears run down his cheeks as his hands ripped and tore at his skull. He didn't want this. He didn't want this pain. He didn't want to feel the anguish in his chest, and the loneliness that he had kept at bay for so long. He couldn't even remember the face behind that loving voice… and for the first time, he _wanted to_. He _wanted_ to know who actually cared for him.

_But it's no one now. I'm alone._

His eyes shot up, suddenly, dark and fiery. His wet hair hung in his face as the last of his tears slipped off his cheeks. It was time to stop feeling sorry for himself. He had things to do.

_Once I get my gauntlet back, none of this will matter. I won't feel anymore, and I won't be hungry or thirsty. I'll just waste away, just like before._

Something was oddly comforting about that statement. He didn't want to feel anymore. He'd given it up long ago, grown used to it. The strange turmoil of emotions in his system was disturbingly new. He needed to get up and get moving. Agrabah was quite a ways away. He needed to make a plan to get the gauntlet. Surely it was stored away somewhere in the palace.

He pulled himself out of the tub - a bit clumsy due to his lack of food, water, and sleep - and grabbed a towel to dry himself off. It was hardly soft anymore - it hadn't been used in quite some time - but it did the job. As his fingers grazed across the sign on his chest, he felt a strange warmth emanate from it. _How strange…_ It was almost electrifying.

As he pulled on a new set of clothes, he could feel exhaustion starting to creep into his muscles. He'd been ignoring it in his journey across the desert, and the soft, comforting feeling of wearing clean clothes was starting to calm him down. These clothes were a bit more modest than his earlier outfit - he wasn't out to really make an appearance. If he was going to Agrabah, he would have to be stealthy. His shirt and pants were blue, cloaked with a blue tunic that hung loosely over his chest and to his knees. A gold-colored belt was wrapped around his waist, and it made his loss of weight much more obvious. He yanked a blue, hooded cape around his shoulders and fastened it with a golden clip.

Well, perhaps _modest_ wasn't the word for it…

_Ah, it doesn't matter. I'm pretty sure most of Agrabah thinks I'm dead by now anyway. How long _has_ it been, I wonder…?_

He pulled his hair back, low against his neck, gripping it in his pale fist. With that done, he grasped a golden-handled dagger and quickly sliced his hair off just below his shoulders. His head felt a bit lighter, and his hair fell with a bit more ease. He didn't bother cleaning up the stray black curls at his feet, but merely tied the remnants of them back to keep it off his neck.

_It doesn't look like Xerxes has been around in awhile. I couldn't have expected him to wait for me. He's so loyal - he probably went looking for me._

He sighed, sitting on his unused bed, gazing at the wall with his arms drooping lifelessly over his thighs. _I hate this whole thing. I should have just died. I was going to die, and they had to screw it up. Now I don't know what I'm doing._

He closed his eyes for a moment, his torso sliding backwards slowly.

The moment his back hit the bed, he was asleep.

_**End of Chapter Five**_

**(Author's Notes: Not my favorite chapter. The writing seems a little blah to me. I think I'm just worn out from school. I don't know. This was kind of a filler to get things done with a little tiny Mozenrath-breakdown thrown in. Hopefully it wasn't too out of character.... Chapter Six is going to delve a little deeper into how he was captured and whatnot, and with all the Aladdin I've been watching, expect it soon. XOXO!)**


	6. Surrounded

_**Chapter Six**_

_(Author's Note: __**Important!**__ This chapter takes place mostly in Mozenrath's head. I didn't italicize all of it just so it's easier to read. Thanks.)_

Aladdin had made off with his gauntlet and left him floating away in a cage. Needless to say, it angered him to no end.

Even worse, he had no real hopes of getting it back.

When he finally managed to drag himself back to the Land of Black Sand, he could feel himself wearing down fast.

_I probably couldn't even make it to Agrabah,_ he had thought bitterly. _I'm wasting away so fast…_

As the weeks drew on, he could feel himself growing weaker and weaker.

Mozenrath gazed at the hourglass, it's glow dulling slowly but surely. He swallowed thickly, his fleshy left hand placed against the cold, glassy surface. Xerxes was slithering around the lab.

"Go to Agrabah! We should go to Agrabah and get gauntlet!" Xerxes suggested in broken English.

"It's pointless, Xerxes," Mozenrath whispered, his forehead falling against the time-keeper. "I can't. I can't make the trip."

"Master _can!_ Master _can!_"

Mozenrath whirled on the eel, his eyes straining. "No, Xerxes, I _can't-_"

His knees buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to the floor.

"Master! Master!" Xerxes rushed at the young man.

Mozenrath raised a hand to halt him. "No. Don't. Don't even dare come near me."

He didn't want anyone to care that he was dying… because he _was_ dying. To have someone care about it would validate that very fact.

_Allah…I can't handle this. Why does it have to be so slow-_

He howled in pain as it shot through his chest like fire. He squeezed his eyes shut, hissing air through his teeth and cursing the gods and whatnot.

"Master?" Xerxes offered weakly after his master's small fit.

He gave a deathly moan, his eyes trailing listlessly to the eel. "I'm _fine_."

He was lying. Both of them knew that. The pain dulled but never went away after that.

Day after day, he began to notice the odd symptoms of his destruction. One morning, he couldn't get out of bed. The next - he didn't even wake up till the late hours of the day. He could feel his muscles weakening, his heart slowing, his lungs failing, so very, very slowly. It was like torture.

"Master? Master?"

His eyes rolled slowly to the left, his face almost buried in the pillow. Blearily, he acknowledged the eel's appearance.

"What do you want, Xerxes? I'm not feeling well today."

"Master, you sleep often. You not well every day!"

He swallowed, tasting bile in his throat, not wanting to speak anymore. "I just need to rest, Xerxes. I'll be fine."

"Master, without gauntlet, you waste away faster!"

He wanted Xerxes to leave. He wanted him to go away and leave him in peace. He just wanted to sleep. A bolt of pain slithered through his system and twisted in his chest. He curled into himself, wanting it to pass, gritting his teeth. He sat up slowly, trying to move the pain out of his system. No avail.

His hand flew to his lips as his stomach turned and churned.

He didn't eat. There should've been nothing.

When he pulled his hand away slowly, gazing at the shining crimson upon his pallid fingers. _So this is it,_ he thought. _It's finally happening. My organs are shutting down._

And for a brief moment, he felt the cold sting of fear, deep in his chest, washing over him like an icy rain. He… didn't want to die. It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

"No!" he yelled out in a sudden flash of fury. "This isn't fair! I wanted to go out in a blaze of glory! I wanted to be _powerful_! All I wanted was a little _power!_" His voice caught in his throat and he choked on it, suddenly very aware of how his emotional outbursts drained him.

He fell back against the mattress again, gazing at the ceiling with a glassy stare that made him appear as if he might have already been dead. Xerxes slithered into his line of vision, worry etched upon his features.

"Xerxes go. Xerxes get gauntlet. Xerxes save master!"

He tried to make his way out, but Mozenrath grasped the tail of the tiny beast, yanking him back.

"No. Don't. Don't leave," he demanded, masking his vulnerability with a mask of severity. "There's no point. I'll…" His voice trailed off for a moment. "I'll be dead by morning. You couldn't even get there in time, much less snatch it from Aladdin and his cronies."

Xerxes flopped down onto the mattress, no longer floating, spent and disappointed. Mozenrath returned his hands to his stomach, letting them lay softly against the silken fabric of his clothing. _So I'm dying. What a way to go out. Like an old man… lying on his death bed. It's sick!_

A loud creak caught in his eardrums and made his eyebrows perk.

"Did you hear that?" he muttered, pulling himself up with all the energy he could muster. He doubted walking was in the equation.

Something was inside his home, his palace. It made him nervous.

"Xerxes…" he whispered, eyeing his pet with a look of ownership. "Go check it out."

"Yes, master."

The eel slithered away, still showing signs of being quite forlorn.

_I don't know what that little creature sees in me, I swear. Why is he so upset over his freedom? He can pursue his own goals now, find someone that can give him the power he needs. Isn't that what this whole thing is about now?_

Friendship, at the time, was not a word in his vocabulary - only a word Aladdin prattled off in one fight or another. Just the thought of it made him even sicker. Aladdin… sitting there on his throne, just waiting for life to throw him more greatness. _He never had to work for it. Never. I did. And now… I'm _dying_ for it! What did Aladdin do to deserve all those wonderful things?!_ He had begun to notice how bitter his thoughts were getting, how much more envious he had become, simply because, _well, I'm dying for this! I'M DYING! I'm too young to die!_

Then again, he really couldn't remember how old he was. He supposed it was somewhere in his twenties, but he really couldn't be positive. The last thing he genuinely remembered had to be around the day Destane had been destroyed by his own gauntlet. His eyes trailed to his skeletal hand, almost as if on cue. _This hand killed that old man. This hand brought him back to life as a Mamluk. This hand didn't heed the warnings. This hand is the reason for my death._

Another stomach spell brought another bought of blood. He gripped the bed-rail, trying desperately to stay sitting up. If he could sit up, he could stand up. If he could stand up, maybe he could walk. If he could walk… he wouldn't be completely useless.

The door to his bedroom began to shake against the frame. His eyes shot to it and his breath caught in his throat. Almost the second he noticed it, the door shot off it's hinges and into the opposite wall. The door almost stuck for a moment, then clattered to the ground. In came the sorcerers, three old men in cloaks, muttering incoherencies to each other. Mozenrath swallowed heavily, not sure what to do. He was really in no shape to defend himself, at least, if they came to hurt him. _I've never seen these men before. What do they want with me?_

"You," came the ghoulish tone from one of the elders as he pointed a twisted, bony finger at Mozenrath. "You, come."

"No," he said rather simply, and perhaps a bit childishly. "Tell me why you're here first. Tell me what you want."

"We have come to take you away, boy," Another chimed in with a croak.

A thought flitted through his mind. _Have I died? Is this all an out-of-body experience?_ It quickly vanished when the third seemed to just appear in front of him and grabbed his wrist. It burned. He yelled out.

"What do you want from me?! Can't you see I'm already dying?! I'm useless to you!" He hated how weak he sounded, how true his words were.

The old man began to mutter phrases that Mozenrath couldn't understand. Deep in his mind, he swore he heard a voice: _Sleep… sleep, my child. Go to sleep._

"Master! Master!" Xerxes voice echoed in the confines of his mind. "Don't sleep! Don't let them take you away! Master!"

He was immediately silenced, and Mozenrath could feel himself fade away into blackness.

When he awoke, he was in the dungeon of Abd al Matin, wrapped up in a few bizarre magical devices. His tired eyes shifted upwards to the man in front of him, a guard with rotting, gold teeth and a menacing smile.

"Live on, boy. You're going to be useful."

Darkness.

_**End Chapter Six**_

_(Author's Note: I believe this one is quite a bit shorter than the others, but think of this one as more of an interlude into the mind of our sorcerer. I'll probably have another chapter like this later, as well, but we shall see. Thanks for the reviews! They really keep me writing on this! I'm really enjoying it!!)_


	7. Burning My Soul

_**Chapter Seven**_

He opened his eyes rather quickly, almost as if breaking the surface of water. His sleep felt interrupted, perhaps by the very mind that had lulled off. He couldn't remember nodding off. Perhaps the exhaustion had been stronger than he could comprehend. He sat up, realizing he had hardly moved in his snoozing, and that he had slept a good long while. His hand crept to his forehead, the cold flesh feeling strange against it. He hadn't remembered how he'd been caught in much detail, and he felt rather overwhelmed in seeing it all at once.

"They took advantage of my weakness to capture me," he murmured.

_Did they kill Xerxes?_

The thought crossed his mind and froze, almost as if it were directly in his vision. He didn't want to think of it. He didn't want Xerxes to be dead… _No, wait. I… I don't care. He… he should've gotten out on his own… He would… wouldn't he? Surely he did. He can't be dead. Xerxes is smarter than that._

…_Right?…_

He sighed, rubbing his temples. _I suppose it doesn't matter anyway._

But it _did_ matter, and he really hoped and prayed that the eel would appear before his eyes at some point.

"I need to get to Agrabah," he stated to no one, wanting to make his goals clear. "I need to get my gauntlet."

_Then what?_

He gasped at the idea. _Then what? I'll… put it on! I'll rule the seven deserts!_

But another part of his consciousness fought back. _**Then you'll die.**_

"No. No I won't. I'm good as new! I've even got my hand back."

_**And powers you can no longer control. Do you really think the gauntlet will help you control them? These powers are within **_**you**_**, not the glove. What will you do then?**_

_I'm… I'm going crazy!_

He stood quickly, shaking off the thoughts that plagued his mind. "I am not crazy. I am not out of control. I will _rule the seven deserts!_"

Why he was yelling, he didn't know. Why it mattered so much… he didn't know that either. He wasn't going to question it either. He was off.

"To Agrabah."

…

"Aladdin," the twinkling voice of Jasmine perked to the young man's ears and instantly placed a smile upon his lips.

He turned in her direction to see his princess, his future queen, approaching in a lavender and cream colored outfit, her hair hanging in long black tendrils around her face.

"Jasmine," he said, almost amazed at how he never saw her beauty fade. He was always so infatuated with her.

She smiled, reaching down to pet Rajah, her tiger, on the head, as he dozed by the fountain.

"Father said you were out here. What are you doing?"

"Eh, nothing. Just enjoying the fresh air." He gazed up at the walls surrounding the palace, a bit sadly. "It gets a little stuffy in the palace sometimes."

Jasmine wrapped her arms around her husband's torso, pressing her cheek against his back, the silken fabric feeling good against her face.

"I know it's a bit of an adjustment, in the end, Aladdin, but you're making leaps and bounds in helping restore the Marketplace to something much more wealthy. Father is so proud to put your ideas into action."

"I just feel like there's more for me to do, Jasmine." He turned around in her arms and cupped her face in his hand.

They had returned from their honeymoon about five months ago, but he was still on a sort of high from it. He finally had his princess, his love. When they returned, he sought to get started on helping the Marketplace. If he was going to be the future Sultan, he wanted his city to thrive. Still, the thought of even becoming Sultan was a tad unnerving.

"What's wrong, Aladdin?" Jasmine asked. "You look so worried?"

He sighed, pulling away from her, walking around the fountain. "I don't know, Jasmine. I just… feel like something bad is going to happen."

Jasmine glanced up at the sky, following Aladdin's eyes. There wasn't anything too alarming about it.

"You're just nervous," she said. "You're working under the Sultan now. It would stress anybody out."

"I don't know, Jasmine. I… I can't shake it." He frowned, looking a tad older than he was for a moment.

"We'll see, Aladdin. I'm sure everything will be alright."

"I hope so, Jasmine. I really hope so…"

…

Cassim let out a long sigh. The trip back to Agrabah was definitely not an easy one - and he was tiring pretty quickly. They were moving quicker than usual in hopes to beat the sorcerer to the city. _Maybe Iago was right. Maybe I should've left him… but I just can't seem to see the harm he could do. I couldn't possibly let the boy succumb to the torture of those men. If he was already screwed up… well, I can't imagine what they did to warp his mind._

_Then again… maybe he'll change for the better._

That was awfully optimistic.

They had run into two sand storms and a gang of desert bandits (which of course, were no match for Cassim), just in the couple of days they were traveling. No, things were not _looking _very optimistic. In fact, it was almost as if the gods were smiting him for doing what he initially thought was a good deed.

_I certainly hope this kid learns from my generosity. I'm sure paying for it._

"Cassim?"

"Yes, Iago?" he asked, rather exasperated from their previous plights.

"I freakin' told you I was right! He probably _sent_ this stuff at us! He's an evil guy, Cassim! They _do_ things like that! I would know."

The two dragged themselves into a small village, feeling exhausted and irritable. The Marketplace wasn't the size of Agrabah's by any means, but there was still plenty to steal… er… buy. He pulled the cloth of his hood across his face, eyes scanning the area for a good find.

"There, Cassim! Look! Pretty ruby," Iago murmured, looking pleased.

"We're looking for _food_, Iago. Not jewelry."

"What happened to you, Cassim? You used to be a much more fun thief."

He smirked. "Aladdin would be quite ashamed of me, wouldn't he?"

"Who cares? C'mon! Let's get a souvenir."

Cassim chuckled. "We'll see."

"That's what I like to hear."

He slid an apple from a stand without anyone noticing, sliding it up his arm and popping it off his elbow - just like his son. He caught it in the air and took a bite of it. Iago groaned, annoyed.

"You're just like your kid."

"_Please,_ Iago. I taught him that trick when he was just a little, little boy." He smiled at the thought. "He couldn't have been any older than two or three…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Iago waved off Cassim's reverie, only to realize that Aladdin's father's attention had drifted elsewhere. "Hey, I'm talking-"

"Shh…" Cassim whispered. "Those two…"

He pointed to two cloaked figures that seemed to almost stand out in the crowd. Iago peered at them.

"Yeah, so?"

"Don't they look… familiar?" A pause. "Allah… they were at that palace where we saved that boy! They must be looking for him."

"_SO?!_ C'mon, Cassim! Leave it alone! Don't start sayin' -"

"Let's go check it out."

"Ugh."

Cassim slipped into an alleyway, crouching down to get a good view of the two men. They were speaking in hushed voices, but luckily, Cassim's trained ears could pick up on their words.

"…don't think he's here. The boy obviously has decided to keep moving."

"Yes, you're right. I imagine he's close to Agrabah by now, off to get that gauntlet of his. If we allow him to get it, we'll have difficulty getting him back."

"Don't worry. Remember, we've sent our _truly_ powerful men after him already. He won't get so far."

Cassim's eyebrows raised in shock. "_Agrabah?!_"

Making an immediate decision, Cassim made his way back to the village entrance.

"Where are we going, Cassim?" Iago squawked.

"Where do you _think_? We're going to Agrabah." Cassim mounted his horse, eyebrows furrowed.

He could only hope he would be fast enough to help his son.

…

Agrabah had changed a bit in the years that Mozenrath had been missing - that, he could tell almost immediately. There were more people on the streets buying instead of begging. Apparently, the new appointed Sultan and Sultana had been doing a pretty good job with Agrabah's economic issues. Then again, they could have simply just given a fraction of their riches to the poor in order to help them. It sickened him. _That's right. Just refuse to let them work for it too. Let everyone be rich, happy, lazy idiots._ It made him wonder, really, why he _wasn't_ happy, when he'd worked so hard to earn everything he had. _Only to lose it…. No wonder I'm unhappy._

Then again, he was working on getting everything back. _So why do I still feel bothered?_ He paused, his feet scraping against the well worn sand of Agrabah's marketplace. Something was wrong. No… something… was out of place. He swallowed heavily, pulling his cloak more tightly around him, and began to make his way into the crowd of shoppers and tourists that filled Agrabah's streets. _I feel like I'm being watched…_ His pace began to pick up, his forehead wrinkling slightly in worry. _Am I just being paranoid?_

…

"Here we go, Al! A walk through the Marketplace is just what you need!" Genie exclaimed, waving his large blue arms excitedly.

He smiled. Genie was right. He was cheering up a bit. "It is pretty great to see how much this place has flourished."

"It's all thanks to _you_, Al!"

Abu gave a squeak along the lines of, "Yeah!" and Carpet did a quick swoop around the young boy. He laughed aloud this time.

"It's not all me. There's no way I could have done this on my own."

"It was _mostly_ you!" Genie supplied with a large, humorous grin.

Aladdin had stopped smiling, however, his feet slowing to a stop.

"What is it, Al?"

Aladdin pointed up to the sky. "Does the sky look strange to you?"

…

"The sky's getting dark," Mozenrath muttered. He had a feeling in his gut that he knew what that meant. "One of _them_ is here…"

He couldn't believe he was surprised, but he was. A man in a dark cloak stood before him, a creeping, corpse-like hand waving in front of him, conjuring a storm, sending chills down Mozenrath's spine. He felt a stab of pain, burning from the middle of his chest.

…_Allah…_

He doubted he'd be able to take him down by himself. And yet, there was no one there to help him.

Odds were not on his side.

_**End Chapter Seven**_

_(Author's Note: Oh, Lord. I do hate this chapter... I've written and rewritten about ten drafts, and I'm still not pleased with it. But I figured that if I could get through this chapter, the story could progress a lot faster. So I chewed my tongue in stress and just did it. Sorry - I know it's lacking something the other chapters had - but the next chapter, we'll get a lot of Aladdin! THat's always good. :))  
_


	8. In the Presence of Enemies

_**Chapter Eight**_

Mozenrath turned quickly and ran. He was fairly sure running would do him no good, but it would at least buy him a little time. Not that there was too much time to think. He skidded around a corner and dashed into an alleyway. _How… do I know this place?_ He shook his head. There was no time to be questioning how he knew where he was going, just on how to get away from the trailing figure behind him.

Suddenly, a hand jolted from the ground and clapped around his ankle. Mozenrath let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a wail as he was yanked off of his feet and head first into the sand. His dark eyes slid violently in the direction of his attacker, only to flutter in shock.

"…_Mamluks?!_"

"Give up," croaked one of the cloaked men, approaching slowly from behind. "There's nothing you can do."

Lightning cracked across the sky, followed by the loud boom of thunder. Mozenrath delivered a swift kick to the mamluk's face and wriggled out of it's bony grasp. He took off again, though knowing it was no use. Still, seeing a mamluk attack him had him unnerved. _Did they create them with the power they took from me?_ And his chest was still hurting as if someone had shoved a dagger through it. He leapt over another mamluk rising from the sand and grasped onto a rope hanging from one of the higher windows of a building. He clambered up as quickly as he could, but his tired, hungry body wasn't giving him much leeway.

"This would be so much easier if I was still… immortal!"

_But you were never immortal, Mozenrath. You were just buying your time, just like now. You're going to die here._

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the thought from his head.

_You're going to __**fail**_**.**

"_**NO!**__"_ Mozenrath dove through the window to find the room empty and barren.

_Good. I don't need anyone else chasing me._

Another bolt of lightning struck through the roof of the building, however, destroying a large chunk of it and revealing to him the sky once more. Muttering curses he raced down the stairs.

"_I know you'll do your best," said the voice from long ago._

Mozenrath stumbled down the last couple of steps and fell to the floor. He lay still for a matter of moments, debating on whether he should give up or keep running. By that point, he was rather unsure as to what good it would do to do either. Mamluks were sprouting from the ground around him like some bizarre, human shaped plants, and pulling him up to his feet and dragging him from the building. He clenched his fist.

_Am I going to let it end like this? After running for this long?_

_**Just give up. You never had a chance at succeeding. You never have.**_

It was then that Mozenrath truly began to wonder, _when did I start doubting myself?_

…

"Where's this storm come from?!" Genie yelled over the sounds of winds and thunder.

Aladdin could feel Abu gripping violently to his arm, trying not to get carried off in the sudden storm. "I… I don't know! Something's not right about it!"

Genie agreed, suddenly sporting a rain coat, hat, boots, and umbrella. "Yeah! Seems almost like it was magically created."

Aladdin gave Genie a look of confusion. "What?"

"This storm's got hints of magic all over it! Well-controlled lightning, really dark skies, and," with a quick transformation into a Genie-looking Tinkerbell, "A little bit of pixie dust!" With a giggle, he poofed back to his normal self.

"Magic? Storms?" Aladdin began, then his eyes carried to the sight of the undead filing out of a building in a stupid obedience. "Mamluks. Mozenrath is behind this."

"He's still alive?" Genie murmured, raising his eyebrows. "Wow, that kid's tougher than I thought."

"And look! They've got a prisoner!" Aladdin gestured to a cloaked heap of human being dragged along by the zombie-like creatures. "Come on, Carpet!"

With ferocity, the rug swept under Aladdin's feet, pulling him into the air and dashing toward the mamluks and their prisoner. Genie floated next to him, equaling the speed. Abu was still latched onto his master's arm.

"Let him go!" Aladdin yelled, then turned to Genie. "Genie! I need a sword!"

Then, poof, it was done. Aladdin ripped it from the scabbard and slashed one of the mamluk's heads off. It rolled to the ground and the body took care in trying to find it. Then, just as Aladdin was taking down another two, a large gust of wind suddenly slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. _Wh-what?!_ A cluster of cloaked men were appearing on rooftops, looking down upon him, their hands lifted toward the sky, summoning lighting in their fingertips. Mamluks were gathering around him, ready to hold him still for their attack.

Aladdin felt the blood run from his face. _This isn't Mozenrath!_

…

Mozenrath, shocked from the sudden appearance of his rival saving his life - and getting a strange sense of déjà vu, he stood motionless for a moment, unable to process any thought. Then, as he saw the youth's body fall to the sandy ground, he felt his breath hitch. The men were going to kill Aladdin.

Why did that bother him? Was it because he reminded him of the man who had saved him? Was it because he was fighting so desperately to do so himself? _But he doesn't even know it's me._ _Wait. I'm the one that will kill Aladdin!_

He could feel something welling inside of him as he whirled on the men, feeling his voice burst from his form, completely lacking control. His eyes rolled back in his head and he was surrounded by white light. He could hear the wails of dying mamluks, and the men chanting, and then all was gone. He fell to the ground in a heap, his breath shallow, every muscle feeling strained. _Wait… what just happened?_ Then he heard Aladdin coughing and sputtering sand as he was helped up by the genie he'd fought so hard to possess long ago. He remained still, his cloak still lying flat over his face, unable to reveal himself. The point was, whether he wanted to or not, he couldn't make himself move, and every time his eyes shifted about the area, there was a bright flash in his mind of something he couldn't quite picture - and it hurt him for some reason.

"You okay, Al?" Genie's voice asked softly.

"Y-yeah," he replied, and Mozenrath could hear him shifting to stand on his feet. "That was strange."

"I agree. Those guys were definitely _not_ Mozenrath!"

Abu squeaked in agreement as well.

_Well, at least my reputation preceeds me._

"What happened?" Aladdin asked, winded.

"I think…" Genie was suddenly standing very close to Mozenrath's right hand. "This kid had something to do with it."

Then, a soft touch on his shoulder, shaking him slightly in an oddly comforting gesture. "Hey. Are you okay?"

_If you knew who was under this cloak, you wouldn't nearly be so friendly._

His hands starting to work again, he batted Aladdin's hand away almost childishly, pulling himself up onto his hands and knees.

"H-hey, you shouldn't get up! You were just injured!"

"I'm fine," he groaned, knowing Aladdin would recognize the voice. "Trust me, you wouldn't care."

There was a long pause in which Mozenrath finally turned to reluctantly face his savior. Aladdin looked beyond words, staring at Mozenrath as if he were some strange monster. Then, his eyebrows furrowed in anger.

"_Mozenrath!_ So you _were_ behind this!"

He shook his head, almost amused at Aladdin's ability to jump to conclusions. "Yes, I asked the mamluks to take me captive. That sounds just like me, doesn't it?"

…

Mozenrath sounded exhausted. In fact, his voice lacked the passion that had once laced every word that dripped from his confident, condescending lips. He was actually surprised. But one thing held clear--

"…You… you weren't responsible." But Aladdin's pride wouldn't let him believe it still. "Then why were their mamluks involved?!"

Mozenrath pulled the hood of the cloak off of his head, closing his eyes, irritated. "I don't know."

"That's all you can say? You _don't know_?"

Mozenrath held up his hands. "I think this should be enough. You still have my gauntlet, remember? I don't have any magical abilities outside of that."

"Then how did you do… that, just now?" Aladdin asked.

Simultaneously, Genie wailed, "HE'S GOT TWO HANDS!"

Aladdin, focus shifting onto Genie's statement, blinked rather slowly, as if trying to take it all in. "Your hand… grew back?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Aladdin," Mozenrath replied with venom. "Now, why don't you give me back my gauntlet."

"Hah! You can't do anything without it! Make us!" Genie laughed overconfidently.

Mozenrath's jaw tightened. "And you can't stop these people without it."

Genie's laugh cut off immediately, his jaw dropping hideously low.

"How are we to be sure you aren't just pulling some elaborate scheme to get your gauntlet back?!" Aladdin demanded.

Mozenrath stood, dusting himself off, but still feeling the aftereffects of the attack. _At least I can remember a little bit of it this time. I can't remember what happened last time I was attacked._ He pushed some of the dark hair out of his face and glowered at Aladdin.

"Why would I do something stupid like that? I don't trust anyone to do my job _for me_, street rat."

Aladdin looked like he was ready and willing to argue more, but Genie stepped between them. "Hold on a second, Al! Didn't he just… save your life?"

Aladdin stammered for a moment, a bit slack-jawed, then fired back at Genie: "Iago did too, and he ended up betraying us to Jafar-"

"And then he proceeded to betray Jafar to us."

Mozenrath rolled his eyes. "I'm not looking to be your little friend, Aladdin. I want my gauntlet back."

"I can't trust you," he replied quite simply. "Whether you saved my life or not, I just can't do that so easily. You've done more bad than good."

"Fine," he replied. "Let them kill you and your princess. Now that you've stepped in on their plans, I'm almost sure that they will."

He turned on his heel and began to make his way off into the city, smirking. _Three… two… one._

"…Wait." Aladdin sighed. "Maybe… we can figure something out. You… did save me after all."

Maybe odds were on his side after all. He turned around.

"I'm listening."

_**End of Chapter Eight**_


	9. Under a Glass Moon

_**Chapter Nine**_

The Palace was as mystifying and beautiful as he remembered. But as he made his way through the gigantic, stone walls, he felt as if they were baring down on him, creating a claustrophobic, prison-like atmosphere.

This, of course, could have been prevented if he hadn't been tied up and dragged alongside his rival. He cursed his reflexes - they had been seriously tarnished in his time of imprisonment. In fact, the mere idea that he could possibly imprisoned again was making him jittery and irritated. He jerked against the ropes.

"There was no reason to tie me up!" he growled. "I wasn't not being violent."

"Better safe than sorry," Aladdin supplied not looking the least bit bothered.

Mozenrath glowered at the Genie, the one responsible for the ropes. "So you tied me up and your dragging me to your dungeon, is that it?"

_I can't believe this. I was the one playing the tricks here!_

"You should be lucky that's all we're doing!" Aladdin replied, giving a not-so-playful tug to the rope.

Mozenrath narrowed his eyes. "I _saved_ you!"

"I also know that you're tricky, Mozenrath, and though I know you saved me, I don't think I can trust you yet."

He grimaced. "Well, imprisoning me isn't going to encourage me to do it a second time."

"Aladdin?" The voice hit Mozenrath like a bucket of icy water, the soft, sultry voice creeping from the large doors before him.

Princess Jasmine stepped out from behind the doors, eyes wide and a tad confused. Yet as beautiful as ever. He looked her up and down with his eyes. The only woman to ever defeat him, and yet it never infuriated him. He wouldn't deny for a second to himself that she was attractive - which might have been the issue, though he imagined the real reason he wanted her was simply because she belonged to Aladdin.

She, however, was clearly much more unhappy to see him.

"What's _he_ doing here, Aladdin?!"

Aladdin gripped the rope a bit tighter. "We found Mozenrath in the Marketplace."

Jasmine furrowed her brows. "Was he the cause of that sudden storm?"

"No!" Mozenrath cut in angrily, thrashing against his bonds. "Untie me!"

Jasmine simply looked to Aladdin for an answer. He shook his head, though he didn't seem very pleased with it. "Actually, he saved me from the guys who made the storm."

"Exactly," he interrupted again, "Which still doesn't explain why _I'm_ the prisoner here!"

_I can't take another second in a dungeon. I'll snap. I swear._

There was a long tense moment between the group. Jasmine put her hands on her hips.

"How did he save you… without his magic?"

Mozenrath blinked, feeling as if the ground had dropped out from underneath him. _That's… a very good question…_ Aladdin seemed to jolt at the thought to, then yanked Mozenrath closer with the rope, ready to make demands.

"How did you do that?"

Mozenrath struggled against the rope. "I… don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?!" Aladdin shot back, ready and willing to fight. Mozenrath frowned, annoyed. _Must he disagree with everything I say just for the sake of argument?_

"Exactly what I said! I don't have magical abilities without my gauntlet, but I've blacked out twice, as far as I know. And when I woke up, there was major damage of some sort, and _Allah, let me go!_"

He felt a sharp pain in his chest, and heard a crack next to him. He turned his head sharply to see Princess Jasmine's headband jewel practically explode. She gasped, stepping away from him quickly, holding a few shards in her hands. He gritted his teeth, hissing as the pain passed as quickly as it came. Well, at least he was starting to understand a little bit. Aladdin, however, seemed more than alarmed at the possibility that Mozenrath had reacted so strongly. He gritted his teeth.

"What do you call _that_? That was magic!"

Mozenrath floundered in his explanation. He didn't know what to think either. He cast his eyes away.

"…I don't know how this is happening. You have to believe me. I can't prove it."

Aladdin swallowed slowly, contemplative. Mozenrath sighed.

"I know this is hard for you to believe, but I need to have my gauntlet back. I can't control my magic without it. I could kill everyone!" _Playing desperate might get me what I need._

Aladdin's expression hardened, though Mozenrath took note of the slight guilt in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I just can't." He handed the rope over to a guard. "Take him to the dungeon."

Mozenrath's eyes widened as he was dragged away. He craned his neck at Aladdin. "Some hero you are! Good luck keeping your city safe without me! I _saved you_! You _owe me!_"

So he was back to imprisonment.

The idea of it scared him beyond anymore words.

…

Night had fallen by the time Cassim had reached Agrabah, feeling very worn and haggard, and definitely noticing his age for the first time in awhile. They had made great time, but he wasn't positive as to if it was worth it or not - especially since the city looked far from disarray. His eyelids slowly drifted downward, and then jumped back up as he fought against sleep, his horse trotting quietly along the near-deserted streets of Agrabah. He sighed.

"It's been awhile since I've taken in these streets in detail."

Iago perked, the bright feathers ruffling slightly. "Yeah?"

He nodded, feeling nostalgic. "The last time I was here, I was stealing, remember? Then I was whisked off to the Palace to see my son's wedding. But here…" he paused, looking about with loving eyes. "These streets is where I made my real life. I can't believe it's been so long."

Iago shifted, perhaps a bit uncomfortable. "Well, I guess the old place has changed, huh? Looks like Al's done some good work."

Cassim was reaching the walls around the Palace. "The Marketplace looks much better. I do hope we'll be able to get inside and see Aladdin."

"Why wouldn't we-"

Iago stopped, not bothering to ask. The guards, particularly Razoul, would probably still take them into custody - not that escaping the Palace dungeon would be difficult for the King of Thieves. He could only hope they wouldn't kill them both.

"Great," Iago groaned. "Just great. Why did we come back again?"

"To help Aladdin, remember? That odd sorcerer could be after him."

"Yeah, that's right," Iago said with sarcasm. "I wonder who _LET HIM OUT OF PRISON?!_"

Cassim scowled at the bird, clamping his beak shut with his hand. "Iago, if you're too loud, we'll get caugh-"

"Well, well, well. The King of Thieves returns!"

The Palace guards were upon them in moments. Cassim glared at Iago, who gave a helpless shrug.

…

Mozenrath jerked his arms against the chains for what seemed like the millionth time that evening, then sighed. _I expected Aladdin to be a little more forgiving. After all, he let that blasted bird into the Palace with no issue._ He glanced around the dungeon. _Then again, I'm far more of a threat than Iago._

The dungeon made him nervous. He didn't like the dark space and the rats. They reminded him of his time back at Abd al Matin. He swallowed, fighting against the chains again, frustrated. Perhaps this had not gone according to plan - not that he'd been very clever as of late.

"If I had my gauntlet…" he started, only to let his words fade away. It didn't matter anyway.

He leaned his head against the wall, gazing at the sliver of moonlight that crept in through the window above. _Maybe that gauntlet was more trouble than it was worth. Destane created it and _he_ feared it._ His eyes crept to the two pale hands, cuffed and now hanging limply over his legs.

His ears perked to noise, a sudden brash clamor outside the cell. He raised his head, trying to hear better.

"I need to speak to Aladdin! Must you really insist on putting me in the dungeon?"

_That voice… sounds familiar._

"Your son may have been acquitted of his crimes, but _you_ haven't. How are we supposed to believe that you aren't simply trying to steal from the Palace… again?"

Mozenrath frowned heavily. He hated the Palace guards. They were so haughty and they definitely had more bark than bite. If they had been the least bit powerful, he would have respected them a bit more. Suddenly, the door was thrown open and the room flooded with the ginger torchlight from the hallway, and in came a bundle of guards, shuffling their prisoner to the wall of the cell, hooking his chains to the wall. Razoul gave the prisoners a toothy grin that made Mozenrath's blood boil.

"The Sultan should be pleased to know that we've taken in _three_ terrors today."

"Three?" Mozenrath said simultaneously with the new two prisoners, only to realize that there actually _were_ two others with him - and as soon as the guards had moved out of the way, chatting idly to themselves as they left the prisoners in the dungeon, Mozenrath could see who they were.

"It's… you!" Cassim exclaimed, eyes wide.

Mozenrath couldn't find words right away. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"I'm surprised you're still alive," he said. "Are you alright?"

Well, that was odd. No one had ever really asked him about his own well-being. And at the moment, he really didn't have an answer for him.

"Who are you? Why did you-"

"My name is Cassim. I saved you because I thought it was right."

Iago, who had the unfortunate (for him, not his companions) circumstance of having his beak cuffed shut, glared at Cassim, making muffled noises of disdain.

"Well, it doesn't like it did any of us any good, old man," Mozenrath sighed. "Now we're all captured." He glanced at Iago. "The bird being shut up is a plus at least."

Cassim smiled in spite of himself. Was this boy really the horrible sorcerer Iago spoke of? At the moment, he seemed particularly harmless - somewhat pale and frail looking, weary… and lonely.

"There are people looking for you, you know," he said. "The men you took down back at the palace."

Mozenrath looked up then, confused. "The men _I_ took down?"

Cassim frowned. "I didn't think you'd remember that."

Mozenrath didn't like the subject. He looked away, back to the moonlit window. "You shouldn't have helped me. I did nothing to earn your assistance."

"Well, I'm sure you can repay me if it bothers you that much."

He had to admit, the old man had nerve. He liked nerve. And yet… he reminded him of someone. Someone he liked quite a bit less.

"What brings you to Agrabah's finest dungeon?" Cassim broke the silence again, and Mozenrath could see him fiddling with his chains.

"Oh…" he bowed his head, a bit humiliated. "Nothing in particular."

Iago once again made loud muffled noises, wriggling his legs about frantically. Gods, that was amusing.

"Certainly something brought you here. Were you chased by those men?"

"No. But they did follow me here discretely. They're gone… for the moment. But they'll be back."

Cassim sighed, sounding tired. "Well, I can only hope they inform the Sultan of my imprisonment. Those guards are so proud… probably won't take too long."

"Why would it matter if the Sultan knows you're here?"

"He'll tell Aladdin."

Mozenrath felt rage swell within him. "Aladdin," he growled. "I dare him to show his face down here…"

Cassim's eyes narrowed. "Aladdin is my _son_."

Mozenrath's eyes widened. "…Son?!"

_**End Chapter Nine**_

(Author's Note: I don't know if I like this chapter... Hmm... seems choppy to me. Maybe it's just me?)


	10. You Not Me

_**Chapter Ten**_

_S-son?!_ "You're lying, old man!"

"I'm not an old man, and I'm not lying."

Well, he certainly looked like Aladdin, especially with that frustrated look in his eye. And it explained why Iago was hanging around him, sort of… but…

"If you're his father, why did he have you thrown in the dungeon?"

Cassim smiled a bit, a twinkle in his eye that he never recognized in Aladdin. Was that… mischief? "He didn't. The guards caught me outside the gates. I suppose I wasn't being very sneaky considering I'm the King of Thieves."

Shock number two of the evening. Mozenrath blinked, it settling on him with an onset of confusion.

"You're the King of Thieves too?"

"I can be both," he said with humor. "Well, I suppose since the forty thieves disbanded, I'm not really the king of anything."

Mozenrath frowned. This man was full of surprises. The biggest surprise of all was that he didn't like him any less considering his relationship to his sworn enemy - not that the man _was_ his son or anything.

"I suppose that makes sense. Your son and you share that desperate need for justice or whatever it is he's always talking about."

"If I had known you were going to be a threat to my son-"

"You probably would've done it anyway," Mozenrath finished, smirking. "Trust me, old man. I know people like you - Aladdin would have saved me too. You're both saps."

Cassim bristled. "I'm not my son, boy. You'll watch your mouth around me."

_Why? What are you going to do? Come over here? You're chained to a wall!_

"Fine, fine. I was just making a point." He sighed. "Not that it matters anyway. We're both trapped down here."

The man softened a bit. "I imagine it must be tough for you, being shoved back into a dungeon after being freed."

"You have no idea."

"How long were you trapped down there, boy?"

"I… don't really remember." _Why am I talking so much?_ "I lost count. I'd say by the growth of my hair maybe… a year? That's all I can really go by."

Iago looked at Cassim with an annoyed look. Mozenrath was thankful the bird couldn't squawk for hours on end. That would turn his imprisonment into full on torture - not that he'd make light of it after going through a genuine amount of it.

"Well, I was certainly hoping you wouldn't get yourself thrown into another one so quickly."

"Speak for yourself, old man. I was unjustifiably thrown in here. Your boy tricked me."

"Tricked? That doesn't sound like Aladdin."

_Given… I was tricking him first._ "Well, he did. He made me believe he trusted me then tossed me in here to shrivel up and die."

"Did you give him a reason to trust you?"

Mozenrath looked at Cassim with wide eyes. _Well… this man is definitely… confident._ "I…" he paused, thinking on it, then shrugged. "I have no idea. I did warn him about these crazy sorcerers trying to take me down. They'll take Agrabah with no issues." Another pause. "I like you, old man."

"I imagine I'd like you more if you didn't call me that," Cassim replied, though his lips were twisted into a smirk that was oddly warm and inviting.

…

"I don't know, Jasmine," Aladdin sighed, "I… feel bad."

Aladdin and Jasmine sat alone in her room, Aladdin draped over her bed limply, lost in his own thoughts. Jasmine sat at her vanity, brushing her hair and listening to him voice them quietly and regretfully. After her headband had shattered into millions of pieces, she had to bathe and get the glass out of her hair. Now she combed softly, gingerly, for fear a few fragments might still be in place.

"You couldn't trust him, Aladdin."

"But… I gave Iago a chance! This-"

"Is different," Jasmine cut in, comfortingly. "Iago… worked for Jafar. Mozenrath made his own clear choices on what to do with Agrabah. You did the right thing."

"But he didn't have the gauntlet. He was… helpless."

"Aladdin, Mozenrath has abilities that I don't think even he understands." Jasmine stood and stepped over to her husband, sitting next to him and placing her small hands on his shoulders. He leaned toward her out of instinct, cradling his head in the small curve of her neck. She ran her fingers through his hair lovingly. "Until you can make sure Agrabah will be safe, it's better that Mozenrath remains in the dungeon."

He didn't seem to accept the news very well. "I don't know, Jasmine. Something seems wrong about it. What if he's the only one that can help us fight these sorcerers?"

"Do you really think he would by choice?"

Aladdin sat up, serious. "Mozenrath only does things out of self-interest. With his life being threatened, I don't see why not."

"Aladdin," Jasmine replied, worry etched upon her features. "I think you should… think about it awhile."

"It's all I _can_ think about, Jasmine. I don't know… it just doesn't feel right to me."

"Do whatever you think is best, Aladdin."

…

Mozenrath shifted uncomfortably. The chains were pinching at his wrists painfully, and the entire atmosphere still shook him up a bit. He looked down at the chains.

"The guards won't tell Aladdin they captured you. He'll want to get you out."

Cassim sighed. "You're probably right."

"…Well, you're the King of Thieves aren't you? Why don't we get out of here?"

"Escape? No. I came here to warn Aladdin about you. Helping you escape would completely defeat my point."

"Please, old man! Do I even look mildly threatening?"

Cassim raised an eyebrow, examining him. "I'd have to say so, boy. It's not your physical strength that worries me."

Mozenrath blew a hair out of his face, annoyed. _Well, this is just great._

"They won't tell him. Aladdin helped me escape last time. I suppose my crimes have gotten me in over my head this time."

Mozenrath glared. "You're just going to waste away then? I thought you had more nerve than that. Ugh, if it weren't for these annoying… chains!" Suddenly the chains around his wrists and ankles exploded into a poof of smoke, falling slack to the ground.

He smirked. _I suppose these uncontrollable powers are useful in some cases._

"That's what I was talking about, boy," Cassim said.

Mozenrath stood, dusting himself off and rubbing feeling back into his wrists.

"I owe you a debt, old man, for getting me out of that prison. I suppose I can do the same - but if you get me captured again, it'd render it pointless, don't you agree?"

Cassim was dubious. "I'd say you were right, but you can't just get angry at my chains and have them blow off of me just like you did to yourself."

"Please," Mozenrath drawled, reaching into his cloak and kneeling next to him. "I _do_ know how to use a lock pick. I just wasn't able to reach it."

"A lock pick? I didn't expect it from a boy like you. Where on earth did you learn to use one?"

Mozenrath shrugged. "I don't remember." Then the locks clicked and Cassim was free.

"We should let the bird go as well."

Mozenrath eyed Iago with contempt. "Really?"

Cassim snatched the lock pick from him and undid Iago's chains with grace, then tossed it back to Mozenrath. "Yes, really."

"Are you _kiddin' me_?!" Iago spouted as soon as the cuff fell to the floor, relinquishing his beak for multiple arguments. "We can't trust him, Cassim! This kid's evil!"

"Hey," Mozenrath said, sneaking up the door and yanking the hood over his head. "We're not all perfect."

With that, he slipped out the door stealthily. Cassim watched, impressed.

"You know… I think I like this kid too."

"_WHAT?!_"

…

_Now… I've got to find the gauntlet. Where would they keep it?_ Mozenrath crept into a small crevice, hearing the murmurs of guards nearby. _I certainly hope the King of Thieves won't get caught so easily._

"Ah, it's definitely a good day, boys," Razoul said, smirking with an undeserved confidence. "We'll send the King off to execution before Aladdin has time to stop it."

_Well, that's particularly cruel,_ Mozenrath thought. _Something I would do, maybe… but not to him, of course. That is… unless I could use it against Aladdin…._ He didn't believe that completely though.

He also knew if they went back to the cell, they'd catch Cassim and his blasted bird. Mozenrath frowned. _I suppose… he could owe me another debt…_ He honestly wasn't sure why he liked Cassim, but there was something about his nerve, his confidence, that leveled with him. He was different than Aladdin. He didn't see only good - a bit more of a realist perhaps.

He pulled the cloak around his face and jumped out in front of them, taking off at a run.

"Hey! He escaped again!"

_My cloak is close to his. Good, they think I'm him. Wait… THEY THINK I'M HIM!_ Mozenrath mentally slapped himself. He didn't have the agility that the King of Thieves probably had. _I probably should have thought that through…_

He was fairly sure he wouldn't find the gauntlet with a group of guards chasing him. He didn't know the Palace dungeons very thoroughly either. He skidded around a corner, bolting down a hallway littered with dirt and chains and bones. And they were following - a bit belatedly, but following nonetheless. If he hit a dead end, he would be out of luck.

_You owe me, Cassim!_ He really hated that he'd even made the decision. He wasn't particularly sure why he had decided on helping him so quickly. He wasn't exactly friendly by any means. If Xerxes had been captured way back when, he probably would have left him in pursuit of his own ideals.

_I certainly hope this human body hasn't changed me._

"There he is! Get him!"

Mozenrath looked up. Chains were hanging down the walls, and he could see that some particularly lead to the top of a staircase. He smirked. _Convenient._

He grasped the chain and began to pull himself up as quickly as he could. His muscles protested angrily, but he continued to work through the pain. If he could get away from them, he could get the gauntlet. He fought the pain in silence, slipping up the chains with more speed than he could have expected. He gasped for air as he reached the top, listening for the guards voices as they made the loop back to the stairs, echoing off the walls.

_Stealthy,_ he thought sarcastically. _No wonder they never capture anyone._

He yanked on the door to find it locked. He cursed inwardly, ripping the lock pick from his cloak once more and twisting it in the lock. They were catching up. The lock gave way and he yanked the door open, slamming it behind him. _Gotta find a place to hide._

He rushed down the marble floor, then jumped through the first door he saw - an old wooden looking door that stood out among the rest. He locked it behind him, falling back against it, letting out a long breath. _Yeah, that old man _really_ owes me._ The footsteps of the guards went rushing by, screaming demands. He rested his head against the door, then opened his eyes to finally examine his surroundings.

He was sitting on another staircase, gazing down upon a stone room, dark and cloaked in crimson. Shelves wrapped around the dome, littered with bottles of potions and old magical texts.

Mozenrath smirked. _My lucky day._

He'd found Jafar's old hideout.

_**End Chapter Ten**_


	11. Caught In a Web

_**Chapter Eleven**_

Cassim edged along the walls of the dungeon, keeping a watchful eye for guards. It struck him as very odd that… well, there weren't any.

"Where are the guards? You'd think they'd keep an eye on me to make sure I didn't escape."

"Maybe they went after Mozenrath. Bad for him, good for us!" Iago said with glee, rubbing his wings together.

Cassim rolled his eyes. "I imagine if he gets caught, he'll give away our location-"

"That's not why you're mad, Cassim. You're mad cause you're a _traitor_!" Iago exclaimed.

Once again, Cassim rolled his eyes. "You're being overdramatic. The kid has no magical abilities-"

"Except for _blowing up a freakin' palace!!_ Didja forget that part?"

"He had no control over it."

"Yeah, because if he did, I'm _sure_ that he wouldn't completely destroy this place," Iago replied in heavy sarcasm.

"…" Cassim sighed. "You're probably right. But hey, he broke us out, didn't he? Well, let's focus on finding Aladdin first."

That was something Iago couldn't argue with.

…

Mozenrath ran his hand among the brick walls of Jafar's cellar, scoping the area for anything that might be of use to him. Unfortunately, it seemed the place had been stripped clean of particularly harmful artifacts. Still, there were some scrolls left and some potion bottles - though even when he worked for Destane, Mozenrath didn't have much of a knack for potions.

One scroll caught his eye, standing out from the rest of them, on a low shelf, almost hidden from view, and covered in dust. He picked it up gingerly, unsure of how old the parchment was, blowing the dust off of it and unrolling it.

He gasped.

"This was written by Destane!" his voice carried around him in a hushed echo.

And it was. In the back of his mind, Mozenrath could remember Destane hunched over a table, writing furiously about experiments and results, his skeletal fingers wrapped around a quill that was really too flashy to be used as a writing utensil.

"_Master, what are you doing?"_ he had asked one day.

"_Get back to your work, boy! Don't bother me!"_

His hand subconsciously went to his cheek, remembering the backslap he'd received just for commenting. He frowned, looking further upon the scroll, curiosity getting the better of him.

_**Life and Death**_

"What? This is… some sort of article?"

_I have been experimenting heavily with the spells and potions for life and death, and I have found my Land of Black Sands to be quite useful to my needs. The black sand has an essence in it that seems to effect my spells in the best of ways. I have not achieved the ultimate goal as of yet. So far, the spells can be used for healing - though they only last a short time, and have even had a bit of an effect on raising souls from the sands. Still, I haven't solidified a form for them yet. My next goal is that exactly._

"How did Jafar get this?" Mozenrath questioned to himself, rolling it back up and looking around the room as if he had been moved elsewhere without his knowing. "Destane… back when he was working on the spells for the Mamluks….." He placed the scroll in a pocket in his cloak, hiding it from view, making his way back to the staircase, only to freeze.

"_So far, the spells can be used for healing - though they only last a short time…"_

"Can you save her?" He felt the words escape his lips without knowing what he meant. His hand crept to the bridge of his nose and he shook away the question. There was no value in it anyway.

…_Her? Who?…_

His head was starting to hurt.

He reached the top of the staircase and open the door very slightly to get a look. When he was certain the coast was clear, he slipped out, closing it silently behind him. He was within the Palace, filled with guards and Aladdin's comrades. If he was going to go anywhere, he would have to be stealthy about it. He slipped the hood back over his head.

He moved slowly among the walls, ducking behind large potted plants and statues if anyone happened to be walking by. Still, it was late, and though the Palace was significantly huge, it was also significantly empty. He basically had free roam as long as the guards were distracted. He was also fairly confident that they had discovered both of their missing forms and had split up in search of them. He could take out a couple of guards if necessary - but he preferred to slip away through the shadows.

_Now, to find my gauntlet---_

A hum caught his ear, drifting through the hall and almost entrancing him with it's hypnotic, beautiful melody. He knew the voice that emanated from the room ahead, and it washed all thoughts from his mind.

_Princess Jasmine._

His gauntlet forgotten for the moment, he edged closer to the doorway.

_And she's alone._

He was definitely risking his neck getting so close as to get a look at the princess, but while he was there, he figured he might as well. After all, they'd already thrown him in the dungeon, and he had escaped. The only thing they'd have left to threaten him with was death - and, well, frankly, it wasn't as frightening as he initially thought. Perhaps it was because he didn't think Aladdin had the guts to put him to death. Maybe it was something else. Either way, he didn't really care to think of it at that moment.

He glanced into the doorway.

Jasmine was sitting on her bed, stroking her tiger's head lovingly as she hummed to herself and read. He watched her with veiled eyes, her scent tingling in his nose. Aladdin was a lucky human being to have her, and the fact that he couldn't understand why Aladdin had her at all infuriated him. Then again, the fact that Aladdin had her probably was the reason he was attracted to her.

The tiger suddenly shifted, opening his amber eyes. Mozenrath's breath caught in his throat. The animal did have instincts, and could probably sense him there, just beyond the curtains. He fell flush back against the wall, deciding it was time to go, before he was discovered. _I'll be lucky if I ever find my gauntlet in this place. I need a clue. Something that can point me in the right direction._

"What is it, Rajah?" Jasmine's twinkling voice caught his ear, then the soft padding of her shoes heading toward the doorway.

Mozenrath rushed away before she had the chance to spot him, curving around a hall and out of sight. He let out a long sigh of relief. _That was too close. I shouldn't be such an idiot!_ Seemed he was making a lot of stupid decisions as of late. _I don't remember being this impulsive._

He also had a sinking feeling in his gut that the tiger might have caught whiff of him and could have been on his trail. He kept moving in hopes that he wasn't.

"_I hear the princess actually has a _tiger_ for a pet! Can you believe that?"_

The words panged in his head in a small child's voice, a memory long since forgotten, trying to surface… but not quite getting there. _What do all of these things mean? Why are they all trying to come out now?_

…

Cassim had found it relatively easy to get out of the dungeon - not that he hadn't had the tour outside of it. He smirked, pleased with his memory. _Definitely no old man._ He crept slowly toward the throne room. Aladdin was more than likely to be there - after all, he _was_ the Sultan's grand vizier, and by the looks of Agrabah, had been using his power to do an awful lot of good.

Just as he crept up on the room, Iago strangely quiet as well, he heard the voice of the Sultan.

"Now, now, my boy. We can speak more on this in the morning."

"But Sultan-" Aladdin started to argue, but was quickly cut off.

"It's late. Let's all get some sleep."

"C'mon, kid. You look pretty tired. You've had a rough day," the genie cut in.

Cassim eyed Iago, pleased. His son's voice did always manage to fill him with a warmth he couldn't describe. He ducked behind a pillar, watching the Sultan pass. Aladdin did not follow. _Good._ He straightened himself back up and stepped into the throne room.

"I don't know, Genie. I've never felt so indecisive," Aladdin was saying to the magical, blue being.

Aladdin's pet monkey seemed to be trying to comfort him in small squeaks. Abu was the first to see them, tugging on Aladdin's pant's leg with fervor.

"What is it, Abu-"

Aladdin, was of course, the second to see them. "…Dad?!"

"Don't act so surprised," he said, grinning. "I would think your old man would know how to sneak into a palace." _Now he's got _me_ saying it._

"Dad!" Aladdin exclaimed, rushing to his embrace. "When? H-how?"

"Actually, I was here earlier. You can blame your guards for preventing this meeting at a more reasonable hour."

A flash of fury ran through Aladdin. "What? They didn't even tell me! How did you get out of the dungeon?"

"Well, of course they wouldn't tell you. You would have gotten me out," Cassim said, intentionally avoiding Aladdin's question.

"What's up, Daddio?" Genie cut in, bumping Cassim's fist. "Bird brain! We missed you!"

Iago scowled. "Yeah, right."

Aladdin was beaming, his exhaustion melting away to a childish sort of glee. It was rather contagious, Cassim had to admit.

"How are you, son?"

"I'm okay, dad. I'm pretty tired, but okay. Why are you here?"

"He-" Iago started.

"-Came to visit," Cassim finished, eying Iago with a _just try it_ look.

"Well, it's… great to see you, dad! But… the guards. They'll put you back in the dungeon if they find you. I don't know if my power will be able to keep you out. You _are_ the King of Thieves."

Cassim shrugged. "I've retired from that… sort of." The last was added with a devious grin.

Aladdin raised his eyebrows, smiling as if Cassim would never learn. _And I won't._

"How did you get out of the dungeon again?" Genie questioned, seeming to finally come out of that thought directly.

"I…" Cassim screwed up his face. _Well, this should be interesting._ "I had a little help."

"…From who?"

Cassim had a feeling Aladdin already knew the answer. But before he could speak, Jasmine's voice wailed though the throne room.

"Rajah! Come back!"

Aladdin, with company following, rushed out into the hall, and toward Jasmine's room. It didn't take long for them to stumble upon the princess, rushing after her tiger.

"What's going on?"

"Rajah just started to growl and ran that way," Jasmine gestured, looking a little strained. "Aladdin, do you thinks someone is in the Palace?" A pause. "Cassim? What are you doing here?"

_I _know_ someone's in the Palace,_ Cassim thought trying to hide the guilt in his features.

"Nice to see you too, Princess," Iago crowed.

Aladdin glanced in the direction that the tiger had disappeared. "Well, we'll just have to find out."

"Uh--- Aladdin," Cassim stated. "Allow me to assist. It's been awhile since I've had a good fight."

"Yeah, like a week," Iago muttered under his breath.

The group went in search of Rajah.

…

So he was right. The cat had caught his scent. And now, though he was running and hiding from it, he was just leaving it all over everything. So it was really pointless to try and hide. Then again, Jasmine's ridiculous choice for a pet was quick as well, so it was a bit pointless to run too. Not that it stopped him from doing either. He had managed to scale up a curtain in one of the many empty bedrooms of the Palace, clinging to it for dear life as the wildcat paced below him, trying to figure a way up.

"Down, kitty. Good kitty. Take off and go," he whispered, waving his hand.

Needless to say, the tiger wasn't the listening type.

"Rajah?" a voice called.

_Great. Maybe it's not my lucky day after all._

He swung over onto a canopy over the bed, the tiger roaring and scratching at the posts holding it up. It wavered with instability and he toppled onto the dresser below, the mirror falling with a crash. He had no time to prevent it's flight, for he had to quickly get to his feet and run - for the tiger was barreling over the vanity in a matter of moments.

_Well, death by tiger wasn't my choice way to die._

He skidded out onto the balcony, slamming into the railing, only realizing too late that he was much too high up to jump.

"There he is!"

"Rajah!"

The tiger wasn't listening to his owners either, apparently, still stalking slowly to him. Mozenrath made a face. With his gauntlet, this would have been no problem. Without it, however, he faced a much more threatening foe. _Perhaps I should have gotten that before sneaking a look at the princess._

…

"Rajah! Rajah," Jasmine called, stepping out onto the balcony.

She gasped at the sight of his prey. "Mozenrath!"

"Call off your blasted cat, Princess!" he yelled, right as the tiger pinned him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Cassim and his son and all their little friends in tow. He eyed Cassim, waiting for something, anything. _Come on, old man. I let you out of the dungeon after all._

Perhaps their relationship would consists of debts from then on, but he could have cared less when he was minutes away from being tiger-food.

"Jasmine, call off the tiger. Really, you don't want the animal to get a taste for blood."

Jasmine looked rather disgusted, but called Rajah off. Disappointed, the cat returned regretfully to his owner's side.

"How did you get out of the dungeon?!" Aladdin demanded immediately, rushing over and grabbing Mozenrath by the collar.

_Why don't you ask your dear old dad?_ "I--" he stammered, not wanting to sell Cassim out.

"Aladdin," Cassim butted in. "Let him go. I can explain."

_**End Chapter Eleven**_


	12. A Fortune In Lies

_**Chapter Twelve**_

"Dad?" Aladdin question, releasing Mozenrath with a look of confusion.

Cassim sighed, looking particularly guilty. "He helped me escape the dungeon, son… so I let him go too."

"I tried to stop him!" Iago cut in but was immediately silenced by the cruel looks he received from all parties involved.

"Dad, Mozenrath is a criminal! He's tried to destroy Agrabah and multiple occasions."

"Given, this was not one of those times," Mozenrath muttered, ignored.

"Aladdin, the argument that he's a criminal would be hypocritical of both of us. Neither of us are without our crimes."

Aladdin frowned. "I never tried to hurt anybody! He's dangerous!"

"I think the men that are after him are _more_ dangerous," Cassim stated. "And I think keeping him in the Palace would only endanger you further. If you want to keep an eye on him, you should at least have him available to fight-"

"-Yeah, shoulda seen what he did to those guys, Al," Iago cut in, though he looked more fearful than impressed. "_Blew the whole place up!_"

Cassim glared at the parrot. _Not making my argument much easier!_

"Aladdin," Mozenrath finally interrupted, holding up his hands. Cassim blinked, surprised. "I'm not here to hurt anyone. I swear. I know that's not a lot coming from me - but it took a lot more to say it than you think. These men captured me, imprisoned me. I've got quite a few things I'd like to… 'thank' them for…"

Aladdin shook his head, his hands running up into his hair. "Okay, wait a second. Can I get a full explanation? Have you already _met_ my dad before?"

"Glad you're finally on board," Mozenrath replied snidely. "Tell me, old man - you want the honors or should I?"

Cassim huffed at the _old man_, "You know more than I do, kid."

Mozenrath let out a long breath. "Fine. When I managed to get out of your _birdcage_," (With this he threw a look at Genie,) "I was pretty much resigned to my fate. My life was crumbling away and my body was shutting down."

Mozenrath kept an eye on Aladdin, watching for his reactions. Cassim, who was right behind him, seemed stoic over the whole thing.

"Then the wizards that we fought in Agrabah, a group of them came to my citadel. They captured me and imprisoned me. I… don't remember much of what happened. They performed a few experiments on me - they restored my body good as new." He held up his hands as proof. "They said I was going to be used as some sort of weapon…. But your old man saved me, Aladdin."

Aladdin looked to his father. Cassim shook his head.

"I helped you, Mozenrath, but you saved yourself."

"What?" Mozenrath balked.

"You destroyed that place, boy. I had nothing to do with it. Sure, we both fought off their guards, but they got you angry and you blew the place to smithereens."

"But… how?"

"Why are you asking me? You're the one with the powers," Cassim replied. "Did you not know you had those abilities."

"Well… I… had my ideas… but…" Mozenrath looked down at his hands. "I thought it was their experiments or left over energy from the gauntlet."

Aladdin had been watching the exchange quietly, listening and gathering details. He was putting together the story to see if he could believe him. Mozenrath didn't appreciate the look of distrust, though he did deserve it.

"Aladdin, Mozenrath destroyed my headband when he was angry earlier," Jasmine mentioned, seeming to understand.

"And that was after he stopped the men in the Marketplace," Aladdin added.

"Maybe you have more power in you than you thought," Cassim said, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Maybe so…" Mozenrath wasn't sure if it excited him or frightened him.

"So Al, what are you gonna do?" Genie asked.

"I… I don't know!"

"Who knew the great Aladdin could be indecisive," Mozenrath murmured. Rajah gave a hearty growl. Mozenrath clamped his jaw shut. _Note to self, when I gain control of Agrabah… kill the tiger._

"Well…" Aladdin sighed. "…I don't know if he could do much harm… if he keeps his emotions in check. We'll need to keep him guarded at all times… to make sure he doesn't get his gauntlet."

He looked to Mozenrath darkly. "And we'll have to get his powers under control."

Mozenrath scowled. That look frustrated him. If he was going to make any effort into getting his gauntlet back, he would have to earn Aladdin's trust. Right now, that was far from ever happening. Clearly, he wasn't comfortable with the idea of Mozenrath staying in the Palace.

"Aladdin," Cassim said. "Allow me to watch him. That way it can keep both of us out of the dungeon."

Aladdin looked to his father, uncomfortable. "…Abu, stay with my father. …Make sure… Iago doesn't do anything."

"_WHAT?! _I was against this from the start!"

Once again, the bird was ignored. Not that it mattered. Cassim had clearly received the message Aladdin had hidden behind the guise of watching Iago. Aladdin didn't trust Cassim around Mozenrath.

"You really distrust your own father, Aladdin?" Mozenrath barked. "You're not as noble as I thought."

Aladdin whirled on Mozenrath, furious. "I trust my father, Mozenrath. I don't trust _you_."

"Doesn't look that way to me. You're sending your monkey to keep an eye on him. Is it because he's the King of Thieves? Or is it because he might be indebted to me?"

"Indebted?"

"Yes, Aladdin. It happens when people do things for each other. I'm fairly sure you're familiar with it. If it hadn't been for _me,_ your father would have never gotten out of the dungeon. And I spent a fair amount of time leading your dim-witted guards away from him too! They were going to _execute him_, without your knowledge! Now, who do you think you can trust?!"

Cassim looked somewhere between shocked and livid. Aladdin's face had paled significantly.

"Executed?"

"That's right," Mozenrath said, looking down his nose at Aladdin. "Why don't you treat your father with more respect?" He wasn't sure why he was lecturing, but it felt good to get under Aladdin's skin. To have an enemy mock your moral ideals… well, it certainly had to hurt.

"Wh-what would you know, Mozenrath? Do you even _have_ a father?"

Mozenrath was about to bite back with another remark, but it died in his throat.

"_I love you, my son…"_

"I…" He lowered his head. "I do not."

Aladdin turned and stormed out. Mozenrath did not watch him go, nor did he watch the rest of Aladdin's company follow. He stood on the balcony in silence until finally, he and Cassim (and the rotten monkey) were alone. Cassim coughed, clearing his throat a bit, then approached a bit closer.

"Are you alright?"

"It's not your problem, old man," Mozenrath replied softly, turning to lean against the railing of the balcony and look out upon the Marketplace.

"I… want to thank you for what you did. I didn't know-"

"Don't bother. It was my choice to do it. I could have just as easily left you there to die."

"But you didn't."

_No… I didn't._

"…No…"

"And you risked your own life to save mine. Why is that?"

"You want the truth?" Mozenrath turned rapidly to Cassim.

"That'd be nice, yes."

"I… I just hate those guards is all." A piece of hair slipped out of place and into his face. He blew it out of the way. "They're idiots. To have a man of your cunning go down because of _them_? Well, I just couldn't allow that confidence boost."

He looked away again. "They're probably still looking for you, actually."

Cassim chuckled. "You're probably right."

"It doesn't give you any reason to trust me," Mozenrath said after a long time.

"I know it doesn't. But then again, I'm just a sap," Cassim replied with a smirk.

Mozenrath fought the smile tugging at his lips. "Don't get too attached, old man."

"I'll try my best."

…

"Why would my father care what happens to Mozenrath?!" Aladdin exclaimed, pacing rapidly around the bedroom.

"Al, buddy, you gotta calm down," Genie offered, putting his massive blue hands on his shoulders. "Everything will work out fine."

Aladdin sighed. "He was right. I… should have trusted my father. It's not like I haven't been dishonest. I mean… I almost lost everything because of my lies. But…"

"Aladdin," Jasmine said softly, smiling. "Genie's right. Everything will work out fine in the end. This isn't about trusting your father or Mozenrath." She cupped his face with her small hand. "It's about trusting _yourself_."

He sighed, leaning slightly into her touch. "I don't even know if I can do that."

"I know you can." She pulled him into an embrace. "Even after all this time, you're still insecure about your decisions. You just need to believe in what you're doing, Aladdin. Follow your heart. It's what brought us together."

"I know, Jasmine. Maybe I'm just afraid I'll screw everything up again."

She ran comforting hands up and down his back.

Genie decided to change the subject. "How are you going to get his powers under control anyway? Or even know where they came from?"

"I know the perfect person," Aladdin said, pulling away from his wife and smiling up at Genie.

…

Morning had come rather horribly for Mozenrath. After a long night of working out arrangements for him to stay in the Palace, he and Cassim had finally been sent to a room - regretfully - by the Sultan, who wore that same distrustful look Mozenrath got from Aladdin. Still, upon his daughters insistence, they had been spared… for the moment. _It's a good thing the Sultan is a complete oaf._ But after all the arrangements, Mozenrath had only gotten a few hours a sleep (albeit comfortable, being in such luxury) before Aladdin had arrived in his bedroom and told him to get up. As he, Aladdin, and Cassim shuffled out of the Palace and into the Marketplace, Mozenrath finally found reason to speak up.

"Alright, that's it. Where are we going?"

"We're going to get you analyzed. Maybe we can figure out where your powers came from."

Mozenrath yawned. "We couldn't have done this later in the day?"

Aladdin glared at him. "You're in no place to be making suggestions. You shouldn't be getting used to staying in the Palace."

_Well, Aladdin is definitely chipper this morning._ Mozenrath figured he hadn't gotten much sleep either - which was why he couldn't fathom his getting up so early. As they moved into more of the rundown sections of the Marketplace, Mozenrath felt his pace slowing, and he fell behind, watching the backs of Aladdin and Cassim in front of him.

_Was I here when I fought those sorcerers? This place looks familiar…_

"_I love you, my son." "Can you save her?" "I hear the princess has a _tiger_ for a pet!"_ Mozenrath's head spun for a moment, and steadied himself against a wall, a pain moving through his skull at an agonizingly slow pace.

"Hey, are you coming?" Cassim voice from further ahead. "Don't fall behind."

He opened his eyes, unaware that he ever closed them. "R-right."

_What _is_ this place?_ He picked up his pace and ended up next to Cassim again, trying to keep his mind clear.

"What were you doing?" Cassim asked.

"Nothing," Mozenrath responded automatically, then blew that stray hair out of his face again.

"We're here," Aladdin said.

"…I don't see anything," Mozenrath muttered, annoyed.

Aladdin looked up at a hovel, much like the one he used to inhabit.

"Sadira?"

_**End Chapter Twelve**_

(Author's Note: I'm assuming you guys are aware that I've just been stricken with inspiration for this thing by now. XD)


	13. Voices

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

"Sadira?" Mozenrath questioned, "Who's Sadira-"

"I am," came a female voice that struck him as rather brash compared to Jasmine's.

The street-mouse had appeared rather quickly, gracefully leaping down from a small platform above. She flashed Mozenrath a generous smile that he did not return.

"Who's your friend, Al?"

"We're not friends," they both said instantly.

"Oh," Sadira said, blinking large blue eyes. "That was weird then. So… what brings you out here?"

"Well, Mozenrath-" Aladdin started, gesturing to Mozenrath with a quick flick of the wrist.

Sadira interrupted him, stalking up to Mozenrath with wide eyes. "_The_ Mozenrath?"

Now he returned her smile. "Oh, so you've heard of me." It was a nice boost to the ego.

"Definitely! You're the one who took out Destane when you were only a child!"

He gave a haughty laugh, crossing his arms across his chest. "Indeed, I am. He was a rather easy foe--"

"Can we focus, please?" Aladdin sighed, looking irritated.

Sadira shrugged, a little embarrassed. "Sorry. What do you need, Moze?"

He immediately hated the nickname. "Mozenrath."

Sadira looked to Aladdin for the answer, seeing she wasn't getting much out of the man in front of her.

"Well, there's some… guys after us. Mozenrath has the power to defeat them… we think. We were wondering if you could help determine where it comes from, or maybe bring it out."

"Hm…" she tapped her chin with a finger, deep in thought. "I guess I could try - but I don't have that much experience with it. I've read up on it a lot, though."

"Really? We're relying on this… amateur?" Mozenrath sneered.

Sadira was quick to respond. "Hey, if you want a professional, go looking. But I doubt you'll find anyone who will help you."

Mozenrath glared at her, unable to argue. _I'm getting rather annoyed with all of these mouthy people._ She turned back to him, her hands on her hips, looking him up and down.

"I figured your magic came from that glove you used to wear."

"-Yeah, so did I," he muttered.

"It's… been confiscated," Aladdin said. "He's had a few blow ups since then. We need to figure out how to control them, so in the meantime, he doesn't destroy Agrabah."

Cassim had been silent the whole time, eyeing the girl in silence. It bothered Mozenrath - frankly because Cassim seemed too distracted to defend him - or maybe because he probably had no reason to.

"You look familiar," he finally stated.

Sadira turned to Cassim and smiled. "So do you. You're Aladdin's father, aren't you?"

"Yes, actually. How did you-"

She waved her hands. "It was obvious. He looks just like you! He's got that same smile."

Mozenrath looked between Cassim and Aladdin and inwardly slapped himself. _She's right. I can't believe I was surprised._

"Anyway, let's take a look, eh?" She gestured them to come inside.

Mozenrath frowned, feeling fidgety and out of place as he followed her into her humble home. She motioned them up some decrepit looking stairs and into a room that was adorned with ratty pillows and sheets of different, bright colors. In the back corner was what she had stacked up to look very much like her bed. Books littered the place messily, completely unorganized.

It was an eyesore.

"If you'll have a seat," Sadira said, "I'll grab my books."

He sat down slowly, uncomfortable. The entire idea of someone poking and prodding at his powers wasn't making him any happier. He pulled at his collar, feeling like it was choking him and pulled the hood off of his head (he wore it mainly to hide from Agrabah's glaring public). Sadira returned with an armful of yellowed, tattered books. He eyed them with slight indifference. He'd definitely seen much better books in a much better condition. Still, as he caught glances of some of her magical artifacts, he was a bit impressed with her collection - for a street mouse at least.

"Okay," she said, flipping one open on the rickety table so it made a loud thud against the wood. Mozenrath worried her table might collapse under the weight and drew his legs back and folding them across each other. She thumbed through a few pages, then slammed her finger down upon the page she'd apparently been looking for. "Here we go! I had a feeling it was in this book. Stay seated."

She scanned the page a moment, then grabbed a bottle off the table and stepped over to Mozenrath. He glanced at Cassim, who had opted to stay out of the way, standing against the wall, watching with feigned disinterest. Aladdin sat on the other side of the table, and seemed perfectly fine with Sadira's capabilities.

Mozenrath was not.

She circled him, pouring the contents of the bottle onto the floor around him. When she completed the circle, he realized it was sand. _Why keep it in a bottle when it's all around you? Does this sand have magical abilities?_ He was always under the impression that the magic was within the individual, not within the sand. Then again - he always believed _his_ magic came from a glove… so…

"Okay," she said. "I need you to clear your mind of all thoughts. Close your eyes. Stay very still."

She quickly whirled around to look at the book again to make sure she was getting everything right. Mozenrath cringed. _How am I supposed to clear my mind of all thoughts when I'm worried my head's going to explode to your shoddy magic?!_ Still, unable to argue, he closed his eyes and attempted to clear his head.

It was easier than he thought.

He could hear her footsteps padding around the floor, the air around her changing as she shifted her hands in different positions.

"_Sihirli kum, ayağa kalksın. Serbestçe bu fikrini girin. Öğrenmek."*_

Mozenrath felt his spine tingle as a shudder ran down his back. The sands were swirling around him in a sort of cyclone. He felt almost as if he was drifting through the air, lost amid the swirling dusts of the desert.

"_Bu adam içinde kaderini görebilirsiniz. O içinde olan güçlerin görebilirsiniz._"**

He gasped.

"_Come on!" a child's voice entered his mind. "Hurry!"_

"_I don't think this is right," he stated softly. "Are you sure mother won't be angry?"_

"_You're older than me and _I'm_ the one being brave? Come on, brother! Where's your sense of adventure?"_

"_I lost it when we nearly got killed last time!"_

"_There they are! Get them!" came the voices of guards, swords swinging._

"_Let's GO!" he yelled, shoving the smaller boy forward. "Allah! They're really going to kill us!"_

"_This time, you little street rats will _pay_ for what you've done." The guard grabbed his wrist and yanked him off the ground. Mozenrath (or at least that was all he could remember as his name) gasped, looking him in the eye, yet not recognizing him._

_He looked back at the child's figure. He was just a blur. He couldn't make him out._

_The sword was raised to his neck._

"_Please, sir! Don't kill him!" the littler boy wailed. "I was the one that stole the apples and bread!"_

"_This will teach you _both_!!" The sword lifted back._

_He could remember seeing the blade gleam in the sun, coming down with a swoop, so very close to his neck._

_And he could remember the sword blasting out of his hand with no purpose whatsoever. It landed in the sand behind him._

"_What the-"_

_Mozenrath took the moment to slam his foot into the guard's jaw, falling to the sand and trying desperately to crawl away._

"_You little brat! What did you do to my sword?!"_

_Terrified, the boy stammered. "N-nothing! I-I-I don't know!"_

_Right before his eyes, he could see the sword lifting up, floating in the air. _Am I doing that?!_ It swiftly cut the belt of the guard, his pants sliding down to his ankles._

"_Come on! Let's get out of here!" The young boy grabbed him, dragging him away from the guard at a top speed._

_He looked in front of him, just barely making out the mass of black hair on his head._

"_Wait, wait a second! Who… are you?"_

_The boy started to turn to face him._

"AGH!" Mozenrath yelled, pain shooting from the top of his head down his back.

His hands shot to his skull, his back twisting backward in agony.

"Sadira! Stop the spell!" he could vaguely recall Cassim yelling.

The sand suddenly shot out in all directions, as if he himself had broken the orb, shattering it into the millions of grains that had created. The pain started to seep away, and he fell backwards to the floor, completely drained. His eyelashes were still twitching slightly, and his breath came out in shallow bursts. His hands were trembling so much he could hear them knocking against the floor.

"Allah!" Sadira exclaimed, frightened. "Mozenrath! Are you alright?"

Her face swam in his vision for a moment. He shoved her away.

"G-get… away… f-from me!" he yelled with as much energy as he could muster.

It had to be Sadira that had done this to him. Maybe she had done something wrong. He was certain that it couldn't have been him.

…_could it?_

The most horrific thought struck him. _I'm… remembering._

Which meant the spell might have had nothing to do with it. Or it had everything to do with it.

Cassim and Aladdin appeared in his vision, blurry enough to actually appear concerned (both of them).

"Sadira, was this supposed to happen?" Aladdin was questioning, but it started to echo in his mind, sounding very far away, and oh so familiar…

"Aladdin, we can talk about this later. We need to get him back to the Palace and make sure he's alright. Bring Sadira with you."

"Alright, fine. Carpet!" Aladdin called.

Mozenrath couldn't remember anything beyond that.

_**End Chapter Thirteen**_

* Turkish for: "Magic sands, rise. Enter this mind freely. Learn."

** Turkish for: "Reveal the destiny within this man. Reveal the powers he has within."

(Author's Note: I wasn't sure about this chapter at first, but I think it's one of my favorites so far to write.)


	14. Wither

_**Chapter Fourteen**_

"_The sword lifted on it's own, mom! Really!"_

_The little boy was yammering at a woman. Neither of them were facing him. The woman's long black curls hung down her back, rather matted and messy. He wanted to reach out and touch them._

"_That's ridiculous. Stop making up stories," she scolded, though there was so much warmth in her voice, he found it hard to believe that either of them were in trouble. "Makin isn't magic-"_

_His head was spinning, his body feeling week. His vision began to blur, and he fell back._

"_Makin?" The woman gasped. "Makin!"_

Mozenrath opened his eyes slowly, trying to gather his surroundings before moving. _I'm back in the Palace._ His coughed, cotton mouthed and very, very sore. His head was still pounding, and he could feeling it almost radiating down his spine and up into his chest. He groaned, lifting himself up, his muscles protesting furiously. He flinched, biting back a million words that he could have spouted out in a moment. He swallowed the taste of bile in his throat and kicked his legs off the side of the bed.

"You're awake."

He jolted against his will, pain rocketing through his veins.

"Don't… do that," he said.

"I have to keep an eye on you, kid. You should expect me to just be around." Cassim was leaning against the opposite wall, dressed in some new clothes, no longer wearing the long blue cape. He had switched it out for a bit more impressive looking number - and it was probably cleaner too.

Mozenrath blinked blearily. "How… how long have I been…"

"An entire day," Cassim answered. "We were actually beginning to worry Sadira might have done something very bad."

Mozenrath stood up slowly, ignoring the pain. His clothing had been reduced to only his pants, he noticed, and when he glanced at the mirror, he saw his thin, pale form. He frowned at how frail he looked.

"Where are my clothes?"

"They're being washed," Cassim responded, pointing to the vanity. "There's some clothes for you right there."

Mozenrath looked at them with a twinge of disgust. "Are these Aladdin's clothes?"

"Yes," Cassim said with amusement. "Though they are too big for him. You should be able to fit in them fine."

Mozenrath gave him a look, then yanked them off the table, folding them over his arm. "I'd like a bath first. Think they'll leave me be for that long?"

"Are you sure you're alright?" Cassim ignored him, approaching, turning his head to look at him. "Your pupils are dilated."

"I just spent the last twelve hours or so unconscious. What do you expect?"

He shoved past Cassim, hoping to get the bath his muscles so desperately cried for.

…

"That shouldn't have happened," Sadira said.

"Uh, yeah, no kiddin'," Iago replied sarcastically. Sadira and Aladdin had just filled in the group on what had happened.

Sadira shook her fist at the bird, threatening him off of his perch by her books to Aladdin's shoulder. Jasmine sat between Sadira and Aladdin, reading over the words on the pages, confused.

"It doesn't say anything about that happening."

Sadira shook her head. "I've check a thousand times! I did everything right."

Genie picked up one of the books, holding it with one hand so the pages flipped downward toward the floor. "Hmmmmmmm… interesting."

"What is it, Genie?"

"Maybe he blocked it out." To demonstrate, Genie transformed into a pile of children's blocks, then back to his original form.

"He cleared his mind," Sadira said. "He couldn't have-"

"Intentionally," Aladdin finished. "That doesn't mean he couldn't."

…

Mozenrath dived beneath the water of the tub, squeezing his eyes shut as the warmth consumed him. It was the first hot bath he'd had in a very long time, and he had forgotten how comfortable it was. He burst from the water, droplets flying through the air, then fell back against the tub, sighing. The bath mistresses giggled.

"Thanks, ladies," he said, a bit amused. The mistresses insisted on assisting - though he preferred to be alone. Still, they were rather fun to watch, giggling to themselves and simply enjoying the fact that he was there.

It was at least better than the looks he got from most women.

"You're welcome, dear," one of the older ones said. "I don't believe we've had someone so delightful since Aladdin."

_Well that was weird._ "I don't believe myself to be very delightful. Then again, I don't know if you mean that I'm delightful to watch or not."

With that, the younger girls burst into another fit of giggles. It was rather contagious, tugging at the corners of his mouth. He took a few more moments to relax, then finally cleaned himself off and washed his hair. He was amazed at how much dirt it had attracted. Then again, he had passed out in the middle of a magical sand storm. The pain in his head and joints had receded substantially at least.

The giggling continued even as he got out and got dressed - in fact, it was more-so than before. _Yes, rather amusing._ He appreciated the fact that the clothing supplied to him was blue, and imagined that Aladdin's reason for not wearing wasn't just for size. He'd never seen the kid in blue - and he didn't expect to. He let his hair hang down for the moment, not wanting to make the movement to pull it back, and headed out into the Palace.

It actually felt good to have a moment alone, without eyes watching his every move - whether concerned or untrusting. He blinked slowly, his head still a little foggy after his previous ordeal, and of course, the dream following. He bowed his head, stopping in his tracks for a moment, a wave of sadness washing over him for no real reason.

_My mind… it's… blank._

"Maybe he blocked it out."

"Hm?" he lifted his head, stepping closer to the doorway on his left.

"He cleared his mind. He couldn't have-"

"Intentionally. That doesn't mean he couldn't."

He stepped into the room, clearing his throat. The group looked up at him with wide eyes. He looked down on them, sitting around the books with puzzled expressions.

"I'd appreciate it if you discussed this with me whether than about me," he said, his eyes narrowing.

"You're… awake," Sadira said, blinking.

"Where's my father?" Aladdin asked immediately.

"I preferred if I could take my bath alone, thank you - not that that happened anyway-"

"Allah, Mozenrath," Sadira interrupted, looking particularly guilty. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," he replied stoically, not in the mood to bother with her.

"N-no… I… want to help you." She rushed over to grab his arm.

"No, thanks. I think I'll figure it out on my own." He yanked it away from her, leaving her standing with her arms extended. He glared at her. "I'd rather not go through that again, thanks."

"It wasn't her fault," Aladdin argued, coming to Sadira's defense.

"Oh?" Mozenrath fired back, feigning surprise in sarcasm. "Well, you're probably right. I just get a lightning bolt shoved into my skull all the time!"

"L-look," Sadira jumped in, holding her hands between them, separating them. "It was the spell that set it off - but it wasn't my execution of it."

Mozenrath blinked. "What?"

"I did everything right," she said, turning to him. "Mozenrath… have you ever had a memory charm placed on you?"

She looked him in the eyes without a moment's hesitation. It made him a bit uncomfortable that the woman was so trusting. Even worse, he didn't have an answer.

"I wouldn't know. I worked for a wizard when I was young. All kinds of things could have happened."

"Well, when is the farthest back you can remember?"

"I… n-no. No." His face hardened. "I don't need your help, and I don't need you prying into my past. Stay out of it."

"But-"

"No." He whirled around and stalked out.

Aladdin came running after him. "What? Mozenrath, this could-"

"My _past_ is none of your concern," he replied. "If you want to find another way to keep me under wraps, go right ahead. Even if you have to lock me up in your dungeon. I am _not_ divulging a thing of my past to your or anyone else!"

Aladdin seemed rather taken aback by the response. "What… happened to you?"

Mozenrath glared. "Think of trying to work for Jafar as a child. Then multiply it times ten or so. Use your imagination."

He continued his descent down the steps and out into the courtyard. Aladdin didn't follow. Mozenrath sat on the edge of the white, feathered fountain, gazing into his reflection.

"Who do they think they _are_?!" he whispered, mainly to himself. "Thinking they can just figure out who I am. I…" he gazed at his reflection again. "I don't even know who I am."

He sighed. "Maybe they're right. Maybe I should tell them. But… I just can't."

Rajah was snoozing close by, and had perked to the sound of his voice, lumbering over with an odd feline grace. He stared at the tiger.

"Are you going to judge me too?"

The tiger gave him a look - as if an animal could - approaching slowly. Gingerly, he reached out and stroked the cat's head. Oddly enough, he responded, laying his head in his lap. Mozenrath felt a soft smile form on his features.

"Oh, you like me now, huh? I should have tried this before." He sighed. "Must be easy. Getting to laze around the Palace all day. No worries at all. Constantly attended to by a beautiful princess? Yes, you definitely have a life here, tiger."

The tiger grunted.

"Er… Rajah."

The tiger nodded, pleased.

"Oh, I don't know what I'm going to do. What do you think?"

Mozenrath looked at the wildcat then shook his head. "I'm talking to a cat." He scratched the tiger behind the ears. "Well, at least _you_ trust me."

"_They'd find out, there's so much more to me…"_

He looked up, but he saw nothing. He shook his head. "Maybe you shouldn't. I'm going crazy, you know."

He stood up and made his way back to the doorway, Rajah keeping close at his heels. "Maybe I'm not doing any good here. Maybe I should just… go."

He had no idea that he was being watched.

**_End Chapter Fourteen_**

(Author's Note: Filllllerrrrrr. ; )


	15. Just Let Me Breathe

_**Chapter Fifteen**_

"Please stay, Sadira. We could use your help," Jasmine offered kindly, pulling back a curtain to an unused room in the Palace.

The guards were far from pleased from all the unwelcome company, but a quick look from Jasmine had quieted them rather quickly (though she was fairly certain her power would be overridden soon if she wasn't careful).

"I'd love to," she said. "You don't have to convince me to live in the lap of luxury for a few days. Sure, Agrabah's Marketplace is getting better, but it'll never be as good as this place."

Jasmine gave a sympathetic smile. "We're doing the best we can."

"Trust me, we know. It's been awhile since everyone in Agrabah's had at least a little something to eat. Overall, it's gotten quite a bit friendlier."

She and Jasmine made their way into Sadira's room for the night and she grinned at the site of it. "This room is bigger than my home!"

Jasmine smiled, though she felt quite guilty. Still, she knew Agrabah was improving every day. "Well, make yourself at home, Sadira. We'll all have a lovely breakfast in the morning."

Sadira was already making herself at home, borrowing clothing and heading for the bath. "I will! Goodnight, Jasmine!"

"Goodnight," she said, heading back to her own room.

…

Mozenrath had walked with Rajah, blearily gazing at his surroundings, hardly paying attention. His mind felt as if it were elsewhere at the moment. _Not that I blame it._ He stopped at the curtain of Jasmine's room, waving his hand, gesturing the tiger to go to bed. Rajah looked up at him with large golden eyes, and then retreated. He watched the feline stalk into the room, admiring the grace of his movement. After all, it was much easier to appreciate a tiger when it wasn't trying to maul him to death.

_"Mother? What's wrong?"_

_"Mother?"_

_"MOTHER!"_

"Mozenrath?"

He shook his head, the memories vanishing before he could even make them out, and turned to Princess Jasmine, who was eyeing him with more curiosity than hate. His jaw tightened and his briskly tried to move past her.

"I apologize. I'll go to my room-"

"Oh, oh no! No, you weren't doing anything wrong…. Are you okay?"

The hairs raised on his neck. "I'm… fine, Princess." He bristled and quickly made his escape.

The princess was beautiful indeed, but at the state of vulnerability he was in, he definitely did not feel like talking. He hoped he wouldn't run into Sadira – who had not been well-bred when it came to manners. She would simply force him into conversation with her. The girl was quite brash and very irritating. He crept back into his room, avoiding the group of heroes, preferring solitude for the evening. He collapsed onto his bed. _Maybe I _should_ go. I don't belong here. I'm no prince. I'm… not even really a sorcerer anymore! I might as well be a rotten street rat!_ He scowled.

_A street rat. Have I fallen this far?_ He drew his knees up, feeling like a child. _Then again… I don't even know what I used to be. Was I always Destane's assistant? No… what I've seen has proven to me that I wasn't. Was I always a sorcerer? … I have too many questions and not enough answers. I don't even know where to begin to ask… or who for that matter._

He could sense that he was being watched by Cassim, who had appeared in the doorway, carrying something.

"Hey, kid. You alright?"

He groaned, sitting up to glare at him. "I don't get a lot of time alone anymore. What do you want?"

He visibly flinched to see Aladdin trailing behind his father. Cassim tossed him an apple. He snatched it out of the air, confused. "Wh-what?"

"You haven't eaten, kid. After the day you had? I would think it'd be a good idea to have something."

Mozenrath's stomach growled, as if on cue. He bit into the apple reluctantly. Silence dragged on through the group. As he finished the apple, he finally broke it.

"What do you want?"

"Mozenrath… er…" Aladdin looked cautious, nervous even. "I… want to apologize… for prying."

Mozenrath raised his eyebrows. _Well, that's definitely surprising._ "…Um… thank you."

Cassim smiled warmly, pleased. Mozenrath wondered for a moment if he'd been behind the apology, but the sincerity in Aladdin's features led him to believe that he wasn't.

"Is that all?" he finally asked.

Aladdin seemed very uncomfortable with the entire situation and fidgeted a bit. "Well…"

"You still want to know about my past, even if you feel guilty about asking," Mozenrath spoke for him, glaring him down with malice.

Aladdin looked embarrassed. Mozenrath fell back down to the mattress, frowning. "Why do you want to know so badly, anyway?"

"Well, Sadira said-"

"I don't really care what Sadira said."

"I do!"

"Yes, but it's _my_ memories we're talking about – so you're not involved."

Aladdin's eyebrows furrowed. "I shouldn't have even asked."

"No, you shouldn't have. I'm not going to just wilt and give you the information you want because of an apology Aladdin. You don't trust me; I don't trust you. Don't you remember how this works?"

"That's enough, you two," Cassim said, stepping in with a fatherly air. "Childish argument won't get any of us anywhere."

Mozenrath sat up again, impressed by Cassim's audacity to dare call him childish. "Old man, I hope you realize whom you're talking to-"

Cassim rolled his eyes. "Don't start threatening me, boy. You don't have a leg to stand on." He paused, then, exasperated. "What exactly is your problem with each other anyway?!"

Mozenrath exchanged looks with Aladdin.

"He's… tried to take of Agrabah multiple times!"

"Why?" Cassim asked Mozenrath.

He smirked. "Because it was there."

Cassim seemed taken aback. "Really? That's why?"

"It's a nice city with a lot of opportunity for me. If I took over it, the rest of the seven deserts would come quickly."

"Well, if Jafar didn't succeed, you certainly wouldn't," Aladdin fired.

"Please! I was trained by a man he feared!"

"But you didn't even _like_ Destane!"

Mozenrath got up, ready to fight. "It doesn't mean I didn't learn anything!"

Cassim stepped between them again. "_BOYS!_"

Mozenrath could feel his hands shaking, and his chest burning, but he pulled back, figuring his power might get out of control. Knowing the consequences of his power, he preferred to keep his place in the Palace – at least for the night. Aladdin backed down too, listening to his father. Mozenrath clenched his jaw, turning his glare on Cassim. He couldn't put his finger on why he was angry at him though.

"Hm, disappearing for years, trying to get your fathering credits in quick, eh, old man?"

The color washed from Cassim's face. Mozenrath felt ashamed. But, of course, he had only a few moments of the feeling before Aladdin delivered a hard punch to his jaw. He stumbled backwards, landing on the floor, eyes wide from shock.

"What right do you have to talk to my father that way?!"

"Allah, Aladdin, will you calm down-"

"No!" Aladdin yelled. "You may talk to your own father that way, but you will _not_ talk to mine-"

"I don't even _know_ my father!" Mozenrath shot back before he realized he'd said too much. "Surely you must understand that feeling!"

Aladdin stared, the rage cooling in his eyes. "What?"

Mozenrath looked away, rubbing his sore jaw. "Well he didn't show up until recently, did he? It explains why you were jealous of the time he was spending with me." He sighed, his eyes casting to the floor. "…Maybe I was enjoying the fatherly attention somewhat."

"Then why would you talk to him like that?"

"Aladdin," Cassim finally interrupted, clasping a hand on his shoulder. "He didn't mean what he said. He was angry." He paused. "And… well, he was right as well."

Aladdin whirled around to his father, hurt in his eyes. "Dad…"

Cassim shook his head. "I'm not proud of it, Aladdin, but… I wasn't there for you and your mother. You… ended up alone."

Mozenrath felt grief welling in his chest. He kept his eyes on the floor. _Alone…_

"Dad… you did the best you could…"

"Do you mind? This warm family moment is making me nauseous," Mozenrath spat, standing.

He wasn't lying. He felt sick to his stomach, but he was not particularly sure as to why. Perhaps it was because he had divulged something he preferred to keep secret.

Aladdin's brow creased again, annoyed at the interruption. Mozenrath didn't care. He brushed past the father and son. "I need some air."

…

_I can't get one moment alone in this place!_ Mozenrath thought, falling against a wall and sliding down. He bowed his head. _Why am I so _angry_?!_

_"Why do you have to leave?" A child's voice echoed, strained with tears._

_"I have to do this, Makin. Please just trust me. I love you, my son."_

He sighed. _I really should go._ But he still wanted to find his gauntlet. Leaving without would have rendered his stay there pointless. He closed his eyes, his head falling back against the wall.

Finally, the words that had been plaguing him, deep down, slipped from his lips.

"Who… am I?"

_**End Chapter Fifteen**_


	16. The Silent Man

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

Mozenrath eventually dragged himself back to bed, mentally exhausted and confused. He slept hard – pressing his face into his pillow uncomfortably – almost as if it was a sacrifice. He almost wished he'd quit breathing and be delivered from the horrible atmosphere that Agrabah had become for him.

_"Can you save her?"_

_Destane smirked. "For a price, my boy. I came here for _you_ after all."_

One of many dreams, flitting before his eyes as he slept.

_"Makin…? Makin," a soft hand brushed the dark curls out of his eyes, a worried face swimming in his vision. "Are you all right?"_

He tossed and turned.

_"YOU TRICKED ME!" Items whirled around him, the sounds of glass shattering ringing in his ears. The gauntlet burned upon his small hand, electrifying him. He screamed._

Mozenrath bolted upright, sweat beading on his forehead. The sun was rising. He couldn't believe it had already been an entire night. He dressed and headed down the stairs of the Palace, hoping to avoid human contact for a little fresh air.

The menagerie was quiet, creatures still slumbering in the early morning light. He walked slowly, his thoughts muddled in his head, preventing him from focusing. He was frustrated. _I'm remembering things, but I don't know what I'm remembering!_ He sighed, dragging his hand along the wall of the Palace gate, following it around the massive structure.

He glanced up at Princess Jasmine's balcony, knowing that both the princess _and_ her prince resided there. He leaned against the wall, watching for movement. _Must be nice – being happy with your life. Knowing where it's going. Knowing who you are and where you're going._ He made a face. _Then again, this has never bothered me before._

His head jutted to the side, suddenly, paranoia washing over him in a quick spell. He saw nothing, but it bothered him enough to send him back within the Palace.

He immediately regretted his decision.

"Oh! Good morning!" Sadira chirruped cheerfully.

Mozenrath looked at her disgustedly. The cheeriness was irritating. Still, at least her appearance was a bit better, along with the smell. She had borrowed one of Jasmine's outfits apparently – not one he'd ever seen before, but he was rather certain it belonged to the princess, considering the gold embroidery upon the emerald-colored fabric. She was much cleaner than before, her hair actually falling somewhat into place, rather than poking out at odd angles. She didn't lose her smile when he refused to return it.

"You're up early," she said, crossing her arms in front of her, clearly trying to make conversation.

"Yeah," Mozenrath replied, shoving past her.

She whirled on him, however, following him further into the Palace. "How come?"

"Don't you have something better to do?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Well, I do. Leave me alone."

"Oh, really? What do you have to do today?" Sadira crossed her arms across her chest, giving him a dubious look.

Mozenrath gritted his teeth. "I need to get in control of my magic – considering you nearly _destroyed me_ in your feeble attempts."

She made a face. "I _didn't_! It was all you!"

"Me? Now why would I try to destroy me?!"

"Seemed to be no problem for you when you had that glove."

Mozenrath glared at her, his jaw tightening substantially. "How dare you-"

"You don't scare me, Moze," Sadira replied, looking particularly more arrogant than before. "You can't even figure out who you are or how to do magic on your own. Why should I be afraid of you?"

Mozenrath clapped a hand on her shoulder tightly, forcing her up against the wall. Her eyes grew wider, but she didn't flinch.

"You honestly don't believe I could defeat you in battle?"

"No," she replied, though her voice was somewhat shaken.

"You lack wits in battle," Mozenrath said, inching close to her face so he could look right into her sapphire eyes. "You do before you think and it usually ends up destroying you. I can tell just by who you are as to how you fight. You let your emotions get ahead of you, rather than keeping your head. You'd rather blast things then ask questions later. You lack tactics. Just because you have the abilities doesn't mean you're able to use them properly."

"And you're a fine example of this," Sadira snapped back. "If you'd just let me _help you_-"

"I don't need your help!" Mozenrath pulled away from her and started to trounce away, irritated.

"And that's your mistake," she said. "Do you know why Aladdin always defeats you?!"

Mozenrath actually stopped, stunned by her audacity. "Well, then." He turned to her again. "Enlighten me, street mouse."

"He has friends."

Mozenrath stared at her for a moment, expecting more, then broke into a cruel, mocking laughter. "Are you serious? _Friends?_ That's all you've got?"

"Without Genie and Jasmine and Abu and Iago – he wouldn't have defeated you. Not on his own."

"Who needs friends when you have power?" Mozenrath balked at her. "They'll just eventually try to take it for themselves anyway."

"You should learn to trust people."

"You should learn that trusting people isn't always wise."

Sadira let out a frustrated sigh. "You're a complicated man, Mozenrath."

"I prefer to be. I don't know why that intrigues you so much." Mozenrath made to leave once again.

"Magic isn't all about the person you know." And was once again stopped. Sadira stood her ground. "It's about taking the energy from the elements around you, and transforming it. She held out her dark hands and Mozenrath felt the band tying his hair spring from its place and fly to her.

Mozenrath stood, still with his back to her, musing on her words.

Sadira's voice pierced through his mind. "Now can you make it go back to where it belongs?"

He looked down at his own hands. _Without the gauntlet?..._ He closed his eyes. _Transforming the elements around me._ He opened his fingers, feeling them tingle and spark. _Yes. I can do this._ He turned around to face her, then slowly extended his arm before him, it shaking under the strain of a power he wasn't sure he could control. Sadira let out a long breath.

"Trust yourself," she said.

The band raised slightly off her palms, wiggling around in the air for a moment. Mozenrath stood, awed at his abilities, when it suddenly flew to him without an issue, wrapping back around his hair. He jolted. Sadira smiled brightly.

"You did it!"

"I… I moved a hairband. It's not some massive feat."

"You've got to start somewhere you know!" She said, grinning from ear to ear. "It's the start of your control. Now. Tell me I'm wrong in what I told you, and I might believe you."

Mozenrath sighed. "You weren't wrong."He looked down at his hand again. "Where did you learn that anyway?"

"Oh…" Sadira replied, looking nostalgic. "It was a long time ago, before I even had the ability to control magic. Someone told me…."

Mozenrath looked at her. "Who was it?"

Her face grew sad, and Mozenrath swallowed. "You know… I can't even remember now," she said softly.

"I would think after you gained the gift, you'd go right back to that person, wouldn't you?"

"I know what you mean…. But I can't even remember his face or his name."

"His?"

She nodded for a moment, trying to remember; then finally giving up with the shake of her head. "I have no idea. Maybe I dreamed it."

"Maybe you did," Mozenrath replied bitterly. "I suppose we both have memory troubles."

She smiled. "So are you also saying I'm right in assuming that it was your memories blocking your abilities?"

Mozenrath glared. "No."

She chuckled. "Well, it'll come in time. Come on, Moze. When are you going to learn that the woman is always right?"

"When they're right," he returned. He fought the smirk trying to stretch upon his lips.

"Will you at least let me help you?"

"I don't know why it's such a big deal to you."

"Aladdin asked me to. And, well, I see something in you."

"_See_ something in me? Don't be an idiot."

"I'm not! I just know that… deep down, there's so much more to you than what everyone else sees. I don't know why I know it, but I do!"

"_They'd find out, there's so much more to me…"_

"Well there's not. You see what you get."

"That's a lie," Sadira said, falling in step next to him as they made their way into the dining hall of the Palace. "How can you say that when you don't even know who you are?"

"Good morning, you two," Cassim stated from the table. Aladdin and Jasmine sat across from him. Jasmine offered a small smile of greeting. Aladdin didn't look up at all.

Mozenrath nodded a greeting as Sadira stepped away from him to take a seat next on the other side of Jasmine.

"These clothes are beautiful, Jasmine," she said, "I can't believe you never wore them."

They began chatting politely to each other as Mozenrath sat next to Cassim. He folded his hands in his laps, trying not to look at any of them. Shame hung on him like a coat of mail, heavy and cold. The night before had not gone swimmingly. Cassim, however, seemed to have completely forgotten it, along with the bruise on Mozenrath's jaw.

"Where's the Sultan this morning, Jasmine?"

"Oh, the guards think it's… dangerous… to have him dine with us."

Mozenrath's eyes lit up in rage, but Cassim quickly laughed. "Afraid I'd swipe the jewels off his turban? Can't say I wouldn't be tempted."

Mozenrath looked at him in confusion, failing to understand why he would even make the effort to take the blame for the guards' suspicion. Cassim simply gave him a warm smile in return. Mozenrath turned away from it, not liking the feeling it stirred in him.

"How are you this morning, Aladdin?" Sadira asked.

"Oh! Um… I'm okay," Aladdin replied, looking a little surprised to be acknowledged. "How about you?"

"I'm feeling pretty good. I was thinking we could go out into Agrabah today – see if we can find a good place to train Mozenrath in his magical abilities."

_Figures she just assumed I would let her help me._

Aladdin nodded absently. "I guess we can do that."

"You know, if you don't want to come along, I can just take your dear old dad," Mozenrath smirked.

Aladdin's lips drew into a fine line and he glared across the table at him. "You never know when to quit do you-"

"Why don't we start breakfast?" Jasmine interrupted, trying to dissolve the tension in the air.

"Sounds good," Cassim replied just as quickly.

The servants immediately began to fill the room with the luxurious amounts of food. Mozenrath watched the plates with hungry eyes, forgetting that he hadn't eaten much as of late and quickly tossing his tiff with Aladdin to the side. Just as he readied himself for the meal however, he had to turn around and look behind him. Nothing.

"Paranoid, Mozenrath?" Aladdin asked, looking amused.

"N-no. Of course not." He started his meal.

_Now, I know I felt someone watching me. Maybe I _am_ just being paranoid._

He still couldn't shake the feeling.

_**End Chapter Sixteen**_

(Author's Note: Another filler. ; I'm having the hardest time getting out of this rut, so please bare with me guys.)


	17. Master of Puppets

_**Chapter Seventeen**_

"Sir, he is residing in Agrabah."

"Agrabah, eh? Interesting." Long, bony fingers laced elegantly before the shadowed figure as he gazed down upon his cronies. "Very interesting. I was certain the boy would be drawn there – which is why I sent our informants to that area."

"Yes, sir. Unfortunately, he is residing within the Palace, and is under very high security."

He scowled. "I am aware of this, and I have taken care of the idiots that allowed him to escape."

"What happened to them?"

"They have been terminated – at least, the ones that haven't already been killed." He smirked, showing a mouthful of yellow teeth. "They were not particularly strong sources of power, but definitely… useful."

"Sir, what shall we do about—"

He held a hand up to interrupt his minions. "I have seen what you speak of. I have also seen something very intriguing indeed." He held his hands before him, a picture forming between them.

The minions watched as a scene played before their eyes, silent, but bright in a wavering picture. Mozenrath walked, looking rather irritated, surrounded by the heroic Aladdin, his father, and a chatty young girl with bright blue eyes.

"Sir?"

"This girl," he indicated to the scene, "Has the _gift_ as well."

Discussion rose within the group, only to be silenced when their leader raised his hand once again, the picture disappearing.

"I believe this girl could be very useful to me. If we can get our hands on her, we can use her abilities to get _him._"

"How shall we capture her, sir?"

He folded his hands again. "Do not fret. I certainly have plans. Why don't we see what she's capable of."

…

"You know, Moze, you sure seem to know Agrabah well, considering you've never lived here," Sadira said, swinging her arms as she walked.

Mozenrath smirked. "Well, I had to scope it out when I was going to make it my first step in conquering the seven deserts."

"We see how well that worked out," Aladdin replied without missing a beat.

Mozenrath glared at Aladdin, rage bubbling in his stomach, but he swallowed it down. He wasn't particularly sure what he was doing, but getting into a fight with Aladdin had the chance of being very bad for his plans. _Remember, Mozenrath. You have to get the gauntlet. Hold your tongue._ Cassim laughed at Aladdin's remark.

"I certainly hope this isn't how you two will always get along."

"I don't plan on getting along with him," the two said in unison.

Cassim gave them a knowing smile. "Perhaps you two are too similar to get along."

"I am _nothing_ like him!" They exclaimed together again, then glared at each other again, gritting their teeth. "Stop copying me!"

Sadira cackled in joy. Aladdin and Mozenrath fell behind the group, pouting. Iago fluttered on Cassim's shoulder impatiently.

"What exactly are we lookin' for?"

Sadira rolled her eyes. "A safe place to train Mozenrath. And I've got to stop by my place and get a few books."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I don't know why we couldn't just do this in the Palace."

"Don't be so impatient," Sadira scolded Iago. "Besides, we don't know what he's capable of magic wise. You don't want him destroying something… priceless, do you?" She grinned at Iago.

Iago clammed up, looking particularly bothered by the statement. Sadira went on. "Like your hide."

Iago ruffled his feathers, disturbed. "I don't think I like this girl much either, Cassim." He glared at him. "You've got a big problem with choosing friends, you know."

Cassim smirked. "You have no room to talk."

Iago rolled his eyes, hunching on Cassim's shoulder. It seemed that Cassim and Sadira were the only ones in particularly good spirits. Mozenrath glanced over his shoulder as they rounded a corner.

"What's your problem?" Aladdin asked, looking more annoyed than concerned.

Mozenrath grabbed Aladdin by his forearm and dragged him in closer to the group. "Enough with the attitude, _Al_," he snapped. "I think we're being followed."

Aladdin made a move to look over his shoulder but Mozenrath punched him in the arm. "Don't look! You want them to know?" he whispered harshly.

"Who do you think it is?"

"How would I know? Let's face it, both of us have enough enemies to make it a pretty tough call. Let's just try to lose them. Act naturally."

"Are you sure you're not just being paranoid?" Aladdin muttered.

"Better safe than sorry," Iago chimed in. "Sorry, Al. I gotta go with him on this one."

"Who's to say they're not after _you_, bird," Mozenrath asked, making a face.

"Hey! I'm agreeing with you! Give the parrot some respect! Jeez!"

"Oh, I'm certain you've definitely earned it from me by agreeing to one of my statements," Mozenrath fired back.

"Enough," Cassim sighed, finally starting to show some frustration with the snippy group. "If we are being followed, we're not giving them the idea that we can all take them if we're fighting with _each other_."

Aladdin and Mozenrath looked particularly embarrassed, avoiding eye-contact, and their cheeks flushing red. "Sorry."

Cassim nodded at them in response, and Mozenrath saw his eyes scan the horizon behind them before he quickly turned back around.

"Sadira, I suggest we find a place and get to work."

"Right. We'll just… hide out in my place. Come on." She led them into her home once again.

Mozenrath's eyes were drawn to the spot on the floor where he had writhed in pain. He felt a bit dizzy at the thought. "Alright, Sadira. What are these books you need?"

"These two should do the trick. They're relatively easy spells for us to start with."

She blew dust off of the books, holding them gingerly in her hands. "I've had these since I was a kid."

"You're going to train me on _children's_ books?" Mozenrath was disgusted. "How pathetic do you think I am?!"

Sadira gave him a look. "Would you like me to answer honestly?"

Mozenrath growled, narrowing his eyes. Sadira chuckled. Mozenrath snatched one of the books out of her hands. "What is this tripe—"

The front page had a note scrawled on it in less than elegant handwriting, and the words had faded substantially with age. He ran a shaky hand down the page.

_I have faith that you'll be able to learn these spells. I'm sorry, but I fear I'll never see you succeed. I'll miss you._

Mozenrath's blood ran cold.

_-Makin_

"Hello? Anyone home?" Sadira waved a hand in front of his face. "What?"

Mozenrath looked up at her with glazed eyes. His expression must have surprised her because she took a step back, eyes laced with concern.

"Where did you get this?" he whispered.

Sadira's mouth hung open for a minute before she stammered, "I-I don't know. Why?"

Mozenrath shoved the book into her hands. "Who wrote that?!"

"Wh-what?" Sadira's voice was tiny as she scanned the page.

Her eyebrows furrowed. "I… I don't know." She shook her head, looking very bothered. "No, no. I don't know. I'm sorry. Maybe it was in the book when I got it." Then she looked at Mozenrath with wide, child-like eyes. "…Why?"

The silence was palpable. Mozenrath shook his head. "It… it doesn't matter. Forget it."

"Do you know who wrote this?" Sadira asked.

"No! No, I don't. Just forget I said anything!" Mozenrath yelled, irritated. "I---" His eyes flitted in the direction of Aladdin, a bright light forming behind him. "_ALADDIN!_"

He shoved Aladdin to the side, a sharp pain erupting in his arm. All he saw was Aladdin's expression, a mixture of fear and confusion. He could hear the chanting in his ears, the sands flying through the windows, blocking the sun. Mozenrath's vision was distorted for a moment, but he could feel strong hands grabbing him and pulling him away. He blinked trying to see, but his eyes burned violently with sand, and his lungs seemed to be filling with it, and he just couldn't gather his surroundings.

"_Koruma!*_" Sadira's voice wailed out, and then, suddenly, the air was clear, and he fell to the ground, coughing and sputtering, his arm aching.

"Are you alright?" Sadira asked quickly. "This spell won't last long. I need you to get up."

"Where are Cassim and Aladdin?" Mozenrath choked, his voice raspy, as he pulled himself to his knees.

"Right here," Aladdin breathed from behind him. "…And… thanks. You saved me."

Mozenrath looked at him, and for the first time, Aladdin seemed grateful to him. It felt strange, seeing that expression. "It was… nothing."

Iago fluttered around them. "What the heck just happened?!"

"Not sure. I have a feeling it had to do with our being followed," Mozenrath said, pulling himself to his feet, gripping his arm.

"The shield is starting to dissipate. We need to get out of here!" Sadira cried out, struggling with the shield she had managed to create out of the blast of sand around them.

"Where could we go? They'll follow us to the Palace!" Mozenrath protested.

"We have to stop them. We have to at least get them to retreat," Aladdin added.

The wind was starting to roar again, the air teeming with sand. Sadira flinched. "I can't hold it up anymore. Whatever you wanna do, do it now!"

Mozenrath looked at Aladdin, and somehow, they both seemed to know what to do.

They split in different directions, grabbing weapons of choice from the destroyed room. Mozenrath managed to get away with only splintered piece of shelf. Aladdin slid behind a table, ripping off one of its legs.

"Aladdin!" Mozenrath exclaimed. "Attack anything that moves! Stay on your guard!"

Aladdin immediately delivered a punishing blow to a mamluk that had crept from the window. Mozenrath was aware of the mamluk's friends that were following him in. He seethed, frustrated. It was hard to see with the sand in his eyes.

"Sadira! Can't you… get rid of this stuff?!" Aladdin wailed over the noise, taking another mamluk down.

"I can try! _Ak'nin**_!" Sand flew into her hands, swirling into a massive ball, as if it were a bomb threatening to explode.

"Tell me, Aladdin, why didn't we bring your Genie friend along?!" Mozenrath slammed the wood against a mamluk, watching it plop the ground in a heap of bones.

Another slipped behind Mozenrath, making a move to grab him, but Cassim delivered a fair punch to the skeletal being's face, knocking it even more senseless than it was.

"Mozenrath, these guys aren't bright enough to have attacked you!" Aladdin said quickly.

"Who did?" Cassim asked, rushing to the window and knocking a few of the creatures back down to the ground.

Sadira screamed. Mozenrath turned around. "Sadira!"

One of the old men had her in his clutches. His heart jumped into his throat as his eyes scanned for something to fight back with.

_The book…_

He grabbed it and threw it open, instinctively turning to the page he needed, without having any clue how.

"_Kadını***!_" He threw his hands out before him. Sadira gasped as the old man wailed, a red spark jolting through his hands.

Mozenrath's head spun and he fell to his knee. Sadira stumbled forward, whirling around, with the mound of sand in between her palms. With a loud grunt, she threw the sand into the old man's face. The old man wailed, his wrinkled hands flying to his eyes. Mozenrath was losing coherency, and his chest was burning.

"Hey, hang in there, okay? You're going to be alright," Sadira said, and he could feel one of her warm hands on the side of his face, pushing him to look at her. "Okay?"

He nodded vaguely.

"Hey! They're leaving!" Aladdin's voice echoed in his brain.

_Wait, where are they going? What?_ Mozenrath's head drooped. _I don't think I'm good enough at this anymore…._

_Wait… anymore?_

_"Wow! You do magic? I've always wanted to do magic!"_

He gripped Sadira's arm, exhaustion washing over him.

He could hear her wailing another spell at the top of her lungs, but he couldn't make out the words.

…

"Yes," the man whispered. "She certainly _is_ capable. I may have to do this _myself_."

**_End Chapter Seventeen_**

*Turkish for "Protection"

**Turkish for "Clear the Area"

***Turkish for "Release Her"


	18. The Answer Lies Within

Chapter Eighteen

_"Can you teach me something?"_

_ "No."_

_ "Why not?" she whined._

_ "Because, even though you have the gift, it doesn't mean I'm going to teach you. It's better that you don't know. It's dangerous. It's gotten my brother and I in a lot of danger."_

_ "Well, maybe you should be more responsible."_

_ "I... do the best I can."_

_ She frowned. "What's wrong?"_

_ "It's nothing. I'm just... worried about my mother."_

_ "Is she okay?"_

"Are you okay?" Mozenrath's vision snapped back into view, Sadira's bright blue eyes the first thing he saw. He jumped back a bit at the sudden shift, but his adrenaline eventually died back down, and his heartbeat returned to its normal rhythm.

He sat up, rubbing his forehead with a few fingers, trying to sort out of the images in his mind. "What?"

"They retreated. You scared them off," Aladdin said, and as angry as he tried to sound, he couldn't hide the fact that he was impressed from his dark eyes.

Mozenrath smirked with little conviction, his head still spinning.

"How did you do that?" Sadira asked, her eyes casting to the book. "You hardly had any control before and you took a children's book and used that spell at a far more advanced level."

Mozenrath shook his head. "I don't know. I just... panicked." His arm ached and he ran his hand over it, trying to soothe the pain.

Aladdin looked rather guilty, then offered him a hand up. Mozenrath actually took it. "We can get that looked at back at the Palace."

"I think it's okay. It just stings a little."

"Well, thanks. Again. For saving me," Aladdin phrased awkwardly, having trouble forming a smile.

Mozenrath nodded. "Don't mention it."

Cassim grinned, coming between them. "Well, I think we've all had enough practice for the day, haven't we?"

Mozenrath reached down and picked up the book, holding it close to his chest. In the corners of his mind, he knew that the book was important. The name of Makin would lead him to some answers. "Maybe."

He actually felt rather dazed by the entire situation. He couldn't really get his psyche together. He shook his head, moving a little wobbly as they made their way out of Sadira's home.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Mozenrath glanced at Sadira, seeing a little girl flash before his eyes, before the world spun and he stumbled, looking at her again to see the same woman he had been recently associating with. She reached out and held his arm gently in her tiny hands, her eyes wide.

He nodded, though with very little conviction. "I'm fine. Just..."

"Spooked?" Aladdin offered. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"With all the things I've seen?" he muttered, turning to look behind him one last time. "I wouldn't be surprised."

"You've been through a lot," Sadira said softly. "You should rest today. We can start really training tomorrow."

He frowned, clutching the book tighter against his chest. "And you're sure you don't know who gave this to you?"

Sadira shook her head. "No. I don't remember anything to do with it, honestly. Why?"

"It doesn't matter. You don't remember anything, anyway."

His head was starting to ache. It seemed every time he closed his eyes, his brain was flooded with visions he couldn't begin to comprehend or understand.

"You're looking pretty pale, kid," Cassim said. "Sure you can make it back to the Palace?"

Mozenrath breathed a humorless chuckle. "I'm already pale."

Cassim rolled his eyes and dropped the subject. Mozenrath focused on following Aladdin. He wasn't going to allow fatigue to claim him with Aladdin walking just a few feet in front of him. If Aladdin could walk, so could he.

But every time he closed his eyes, he could see a child running just out of his reach, his boyish laughter filling the air as he disappeared from his sight. It put a panicked feeling in his heart for some reason, and he longed to protect the little boy that kept escaping him, and it burned in his mind.

He wanted to believe that he was just tired, but he knew that wasn't the case.

…

Mozenrath turned another page of the book, his eyes fixated on the words within it. The spells were amateur at best, and as he floated a stream of sand around various objects of the room, he couldn't help but be a little bored. Still, he thought that if he could learn all the spells, he could perhaps remember what the book actually meant to him. Rajah was curled on the large bed next to him, sleeping. Mozenrath figured it was because he actually let the tiger sleep on his bed, rather than the marble floor or one of the plush pillows, like his owners typically did. After all, a bed was always better than anything else. He caught the sand, holding it in his palm.

"_Işıltı*,"_ he said clearly and quietly. The sand in his palm began to twinkle like stars in the sky, lighting up into a beautiful stream of shimmering particles, glowing. "_Teklif yapmak.*"_

He began to float the sparkling gems around the room again. Rajah lifted his head curiously, then, deciding it wasn't a threat, returned to his slumber. _I'm getting the hang of this pretty quickly._

_Maybe I'll be able to get my gauntlet. Or maybe I won't even need it._

The sand fell to the floor as Mozenrath realized his thoughts. _No. I came here to get the gauntlet. Why would I even begin to think of destroying my plans?!_

He looked down at his hands. Both real, both fleshy, both painless. Suddenly, he wasn't quite sure o the sacrifice. _Think about it,_ a voice whispered in his head. _Why sacrifice your life for something you can do on your own?_

"This is amateur stuff," he argued with himself. "The gauntlet can conquer deserts."

_Do you really want to go through that agony again? You're lucky to be alive now. And you're in the lap of luxury. Why mess that up?_

"Because I don't actually..." He frowned. He couldn't say he didn't care about any of the people there at all, and it infuriated him.

_I've gone soft._

It dawned on him, coldly and violently, like a bucket of ice water, and he was left staring at the wall dumbly, and of course at that moment, Princess Jasmine decided to saunter in, probably looking for her pet tiger.

"I heard you saved my husband," she said, a gorgeous smile playing on her features, making the hairs raise on Mozenrath's arms.

"I heard your husband has a knack for getting himself in trouble," he responded coolly, picking up the sand again and floating it carefully around her and letting it swoop back to his hand.

"Well, they were actually after you, weren't they?" Jasmine replied, crossing her arms and sticking one of her hips out in argument. It was another reason he liked her – she was a firecracker, and he loved someone who could keep up with him. The one thing he didn't like – she defeated him. Just because he wanted a match didn't mean he wanted to lose.

"Maybe. I'm not sure exactly what they want." He poured the sand from his palm into a flower pot, absently stroking Rajah with his free hand. "I do know your _husband_ needs to learn to watch his back."

Jasmine frowned. Mozenrath thought that it looked cuter on her when she was a little frustrated and smirked.

"I suppose he can be a little... idealistic."

"He's overly optimistic, too-trusting buffoon," Mozenrath replied without missing a beat, though it didn't feel as scathing on his tongue.

"Well, maybe you should be a little more trusting," Jasmine added, "After all, having a little faith in people won't hurt you."

"Yeah, right," he grimaced. "Faith is for idiots who actually think people are worth it."

He didn't like the look of pity on her. It was ugly.

"Why do you feel that way?"

He focused his energy on Rajah. "Life. It happens. I have the right to be a little cynical about it. I don't need you or anyone else questioning it."

Rajah had finally snapped out of his comfort-induced snooze and seen Jasmine, quickly approaching her. Jasmine cooed and stroked the tiger sweetly.

"If life taught you not to trust, can't it teach you to trust again?"

Mozenrath raised an eyebrow. "Do you trust me?"

Jasmine paused, her eyes wide as she froze, staring at him.

"What?"

"Do you trust me?" Mozenrath asked again, a little more frustrated.

Jasmine shook her head. "I'm sorry... you just... reminded me..."

Mozenrath rolled his eyes, thinking she was stalling. "Just answer the question, Princess. Are you afraid of looking like a hypocrite?"

"Yes," she said. "I trust you. You saved Aladdin; I can only think you might do the same for me."

"Might is the qualifier," Mozenrath said. "But, if you must know, I'd prefer to save you than Aladdin, because, well, frankly, Princess, you make the room look better than he does." He gave a rather callous laugh that Jasmine didn't join.

She cleared her throat, swallowing words. "Well, then... I wanted to inform you... that my father will be having a party later this week, for some visiting royals. I think it would be very nice if you would make a good impression."

"_Please_, Princess. I can deal with royalty."

Jasmine gave him a dubious look, but didn't seem to have much else to say, whirling around and leaving, her lovely black tresses sweeping beautifully before him before disappearing behind the door. He made a face. That hadn't gone very well. Then again, he hadn't expected it to.

_You're barking up an awfully large tree. She's married, after all. To Aladdin, no less._ He scowled. Aladdin always got everything. The Palace, the princess, and everything that came with it. Not to mention the multitude of victories and the people that showered him with praise. Mozenrath couldn't quite understand it. But he couldn't understand why he had saved him either. It had come so naturally.

_Perhaps Aladdin is more of a sorcerer than I thought._ Now that was an amusing thought. He kicked his feet off the bed and strolled casually out of his room. The idea nagged at him a bit. He had _saved_ Aladdin. He certainly hadn't done it for Jasmine's affection by any means – though he did think it could be a good perk at least. In fact, he really couldn't pinpoint any reason at all as to why he saved Aladdin. It wouldn't have been his fault particularly if Aladdin had been killed. And the goody-goods of his friends wouldn't blame him if they saw it with their own eyes. He didn't care much for Cassim's relationship with Aladdin, or Sadira's for that matter, so he really didn't know why he took the hit.

He rubbed his arm absently as he stepped out onto one of the balconies, gazing at the horizon.

He was confused.

_Maybe it was just a knee-jerk reaction._ He closed his eyes.

"Someone's looking pretty blue," Sadira's voice twinkled from behind. Mozenrath sighed, frustrated.

"What do you want, Sadira?"

"I was just saying you looked blue."

"I'm _wearing_ blue," he suggested, hoping she would leave. "The genie _looks_ blue."

"I didn't mean literally," she said, taking a spot next to him, leaning against the rail. "How's the magic coming along?"

He rolled his eyes. She wasn't leaving. _Might as well humor her._ "It's coming along fine. The book is elementary."

"Yeah, I got it when I was a kid, but I never even looked at it until I got my powers. It makes me wonder why I had it in the first place."

"How did you get your powers?"

"I fell through a crevasse and stumbled upon the old Witches of the Sand hideout. I got an amulet that gave me the ability. Now I can kind of do it on my own too, though I don't have as much a handle on it as I would like."

"Well, you wouldn't need the amulet if you could do it on your own the whole time." _And you wouldn't need the gauntlet either,_ a small voice added in the back of his mind. "So why couldn't you do that before?"

"You know what? I haven't a clue. I've spent a long time trying to figure it out, but every time I think about it, my mind just goes... blank." The sadness emanated from her as she spoke.

Mozenrath sighed again, pity bubbling underneath the surface. He wanted to push it down, but he understood exactly what she meant.

"It can be pretty frustrating, I'm sure."

She looked at him questioningly.

"I don't... really remember _anything_ from my past," he finally confessed, and it left a strange feeling of ease within him. "I see these flashes, but I can never make out what they mean. I don't know who I am or how I came to be... this." He looked down at himself, suddenly feeling very sick. There was a person in him that absolutely loathed what he had become, and he couldn't shove that feeling away.

"Oh..." Sadira said softly. "I'm so sorry. I wish there was something I could do."

"I'm sure I'll figure it out eventually," Mozenrath added quickly, not wanting her sympathy. Her pity made him feel strange, and he didn't want it.

"Maybe there's a spell, or, or ---" Mozenrath cut her off with one finger, placing it on her lips.

"That's enough. I opened up. Now shut it."

Sadira's eyes narrowed; she was a bit annoyed.

"I've got a lot more to worry about than my past right now." His eyes focused on a small spot, floating above the city. "I've got these new powers, these people that are after me, and..." He trailed off, noticing that the dot was rushing toward him at an alarming.

It collided with him before he had the chance to say anything, right into his chest and wriggling around his arms.

"XERXES!"

*Turkish for "Shimmer"

**Turkish for "Follow My Lead"


	19. Another Day

_**Chapter Nineteen**_

"Xerxes!" Mozenrath exclaimed, shock numbing him from other emotions at the moment. "You're alive!"

"Master alive! Master alive!" Xerxes slipped around Mozenrath's shoulders and arms and torso in glee. "Xerxes looked for Master!"

Mozenrath was overwhelmed. He had honestly never expected to see the little creature again, and after all the torture he'd put Xerxes through, that thought had hurt him deeply. Now, however, he wasn't sure what to feel. He hadn't quite gotten to understand how his emotions worked, not yet. He had shoved them down for so long that they bubbled violently beneath his surface, and now they flooded him with multitudes of different feelings.

"I don't... how did you... know where I was?" He breathed finally, holding Xerxes gently in his palms.

"Xerxes knows Master. Xerxes searched for long time."

_ Did he really look for me the entire time I was missing?_ Mozenrath didn't know what to say, what to do. He was completely touched.

"How did you escape?"

"Wizards did not want Xerxes. Wizards try kill Xerxes. Xerxes escaped."

Mozenrath fought the urge to smother the eel against his chest, his one and only friend that had stuck by him through everything, but he wasn't about to even try with Sadira's calculating eyes upon him. Xerxes changed the subject anyway, slithering around his hands in shock.

"Master's hand! Master's hand!"

"Yes, Xerxes," Mozenrath replied, keeping his voice cool. "I was restored my life _and_ my hand after being captured."

"So... capturers... were good?"

"No," Mozenrath replied gravely. "No, they weren't."

He didn't go into detail, preferring not to look back on the awful experience at Abd al Matin. Sadira's face softened as he tried to hide the recollection from his features.

"Forget that for now. There's much to be discussed." He made a point to look to Sadira challengingly. "_Privately._"

Sadira raised her eyebrows, annoyance clear in her face, but she turned and stalked off anyway.

"Xerxes, I... I can't believe you found me." He was surprised to feel his voice drop to a whisper as he held the eel gently before him.

"Why here, Master?" Xerxes croaked, paranoid and gazing around for any attackers.

"Well... things have gotten a little complicated, friend," Mozenrath returned.

Xerxes looked as confused as Mozenrath was feeling. But the creature was more perceptive than he typically gave him credit for.

"Something... different." Xerxes did a quick turn around his owner. "Something... _changed_."

Mozenrath felt a chill wash over him, stabbing straight into his bones. _Different? Changed? Yes, I suppose I have... but how much?_ The physical changes weren't bothering him as much as the mental ones were – did Xerxes see the flashes that tortured his mind?

"W-well..." He straightened up. "My gauntlet is somewhere within this palace."

"No, Master! No, Master!"

Mozenrath raised an eyebrow, confused. "What? No? What do you mean no?"

"Gauntlet kill Master. Please no gauntlet."

He frowned at Xerxes, a little pang of guilt in his chest. Xerxes had watched him deteriorate over the years, and though he had suffered greatly through the motions, to see him rotting away couldn't have been much of a better position to be in. The eel bowed slightly before him.

"Xerxes sorry, Master. Xerxes speak out. Do as Master wishes."

He sighed heavily. "I... I understand, Xerxes. I do... but... I don't know if I can fight them on my own."

"Fight?"

"The men who captured me. They're still chasing me. If it hadn't been for Aladdin-"

Xerxes stared at him quizzically. "Aladdin?"

Mozenrath swallowed. "Yes. Aladdin. He... he saved my life – distracted them. And I saved his life... a couple of times actually... I don't know. I suppose we're even..."

It didn't feel like they were. He felt a violent sting to his pride that showed in his features, a grimace that twisted his lip and knitted his brows. To admit something like that was hard. To admit that he was actually thankful was even harder. His eyes trailed over to the horizon and he leaned against the railing of the balcony.

There was something different about the horizon, something off.

It made him nervous.

…

"Another sultan?" Aladdin asked. "Why is he coming here?"

"He wants to speak to Father. Father says that if things go well, Agrabah would flourish. Aladdin, think how much better the people of Agrabah's lives would be!"

"I can't complain about that, but... how come I've never heard of him?"

"His kingdom is from far up north. It's going to take them quite some time to get here, but the sultan insists that he wants to better Agrabah."

"If he's from so far up north, why does he care about this dump?" Iago groaned inconsiderately, earning a sharp look from Jasmine. "Whaaat? It doesn't make any sense! When did this guy even hear of Agrabah?"

Aladdin frowned, puzzled. Iago had a point. He looked to Jasmine for the answer. She didn't have one.

"You don't think something fishy is going on, do you, Al?" Genie asked.

"I don't know. It could be nothing… could be…"

In came Mozenrath. "Aladdin, we need to—"

Aladdin caught sight of Xerxes before Mozenrath finished his sentence. "Xerxes! What's he doing here?" His voice was clearly accusatory and it made Mozenrath take a few steps back, furrowing his brows in annoyance.

"He found me. He's been out looking for me. What's wrong with that?"

"That eel did a lot of your dirty work for you. Who's to say he's not here to steal the gauntlet for you."

"Don't you think I would have stolen it by now if I had the opportunity?" Mozenrath argued, his lips twisting in anger.

Aladdin and Mozenrath shared a feral growl, ready to fight, when Cassim jumped in. "Now, now, children. Why don't we try to get along?"

They both turned to Cassim, huffing.

"He's the one jumping to conclusions!" Mozenrath sniped.

"And _he's_ the one that can't be trusted!" Aladdin added.

"If you don't trust me, why are you letting me stay here—"

"Boys!" Cassim sighed, clamping a hand over each of their mouths. Aladdin looked shocked. Mozenrath looked livid. "This is pointless."

They sloughed off, pouting. Mozenrath crossed his arms, shrinking back with a frown.

"If I wanted Xerxes to steal my gauntlet, why would I have even let you know he was here?" He finally asked, his voice much softer than before. Xerxes slithered around his arm, a worried expression on his ugly features.

"I… I don't know," Aladdin replied. "But that doesn't mean I can trust him. It doesn't mean I can trust you being around him. He could… could tempt you into old habits."

"Old habits die hard, Aladdin," Cassim said. "But, with faith, some of us can begin to make the effort."

Aladdin looked to his father with a somewhat sad smile and Mozenrath felt his heart ache. He turned away. "You need to trust me. I've got to learn how to use this magic and if you don't trust me, there's no way I'll be ready to fight on time, because you'll be putting up barriers on what I can and cannot do. If you can't trust _me_, trust my judgment at least." He paused. "The princess trusts me! Don't be so high and mighty. Have you ever done something untrustworthy?"

Aladdin flushed. "Fine, you're right."

Mozenrath blinked. "I am? I am."

"Maybe I should give you a chance."

"W-well… thank you… I think."

…

A week had passed, and Aladdin and Mozenrath were in particularly better spirits. Mainly because Mozenrath was practicing his magic and they had decided along with Sadira, that his guinea pigs would be the palace guards, much to their chagrin.

They were huddled together in a dark corner, looking out over the courtyard of the palace, where Razoul made his usual route past the large, gaudy fountain, with his chest poked out and his chin held high, like being a palace guard was a hard job. It wasn't. He spent most of his time either listlessly walking about the palace or sitting around with the other guards talking about how important they were. Aladdin, Sadira, and Mozenrath didn't agree on everything, but they all agreed that the palace guards were obnoxious.

"Shhh," Mozenrath whispered, pressing a finger to his lips.

He held out his hands toward the fountain, sucking in oxygen through his nose, gritting his teeth, letting the magic spark from his fingertips toward the subject at hand. "_Su… sıçrama!_*"

The water in the fountain suddenly exploded in a large wave, washing over Razoul and sending him speeding into the wall with a wail. Mozenrath burst with laughter, rolling over on his back and clutching his ribs. Aladdin was gripping the large pillar for support, doubled over, and Sadira was wiping tears from her eyes.

"Oh! Oh, Moze, that was great," Sadira cried out, trying to catch her breath.

"I told you to quit calling me that."

"He's getting up!" Aladdin exclaimed, and they all scrambled to their feet, retreating into the Palace before they were seen, chortling the entire way.

They slipped around a corner and skidded on the marble floor, all three slamming into a wall with a gasp of air.

"Careful. Don't want you to get your nice clothes all dirty for the company today," Mozenrath said, smirking.

"I can handle myself," Aladdin argued, straightening his turban on his head.

Sadira rolled her eyes. "Weren't we having fun five seconds ago? Quit bickering."

"You two need to get ready too, you know," Aladdin said. "There's going to be a large welcoming party. You can't go walking in like that."

"Oh? Who's going to stop us?" Mozenrath asked, looking cocky.

As if to answer his question, Mozenrath and Sadira were in a cage, made by Genie, Jasmine standing faithfully by his side.

"No more training for the day," she said. "You two need to look like palace royals."

"We are both magical beings. We can get out of this cage."

"But can you get past Rajah?" Jasmine gestured to the growling tiger, completely submissive to her wills.

Mozenrath looked to Sadira.

"Or, we could get ready," she said. "Yes. We can do that."

He couldn't help but agree.

_**End Chapter Nineteen**_

_**

* * *

**_

*_Su… sıçrama!_* is Turkish for "Water… splash!"

_**Author's Note:**_ I take forever to update and this is what I provide? A short chapter? Yeah… sorry… But at least I updated? And there will be story progression, I promise! Er… for now, enjoy.


	20. Train of Thought

_**Chapter Twenty**_

Mozenrath tugged at the collar of his shirt, annoyed. Yes, he had worn plenty of luxurious frocks in his day, and he was quite proud of how good he looked in them, but this was uncomfortable.

Mainly because Sadira was basically his female counterpart.

Both dressed in blue and white and gold, they looked like they were the resident couple of the Palace. He didn't like it. He didn't like being attached to anyone, and something told him that Jasmine had set up this ridiculous façade in order for Sadira to keep an eye on him.

He supposed he understood a little bit. He and Aladdin _had_ gotten up to a little trouble, toying with the guards and, more than occasionally, Iago. But Sadira had been along for the ride every step of the way. Her plan to pester Rajah and make the tiger believe Iago was responsible was particularly cunning and amusing.

But regardless of Jasmine's shoddy plan to keep him under wraps (she should have known better that he knew perfectly well how to act around royals), he couldn't shake the deep feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. It burned and twisted and made him feel nauseous. So much so that it was obvious on his expression, and Sadira brought it up. She _always_ brought it up.

"I don't look _that_ bad, do I?"

Mozenrath shook his head. "No. No. You look…" He looked her up and down. "You look great."

"A compliment? I'm honored. The great and powerful Mozenrath thinks I look great."

Allah, she was mouthy sometimes.

"So what's really the problem?" She laced her fingers languidly around his arm and he eyed them like they were searing through the satin.

"It… doesn't matter. Where's Xerxes?"

"All little sidekicks are supposed to remain elsewhere in the Palace until the royals are settled. I'm guessing it's to keep us out of trouble."

Mozenrath rolled his eyes. "Yeah, _that'll_ work," he said dryly.

Sadira giggled, her blue eyes twinkling in a way that almost caught his attention.

Aladdin came waltzing in, looking almost as uncomfortable as Mozenrath felt, dressed to a hilt and the lovely Jasmine flowing in behind him, looking absolutely stunning in violet. Yet his eyes didn't linger long, much to his own surprise. They were back on Sadira after a moment, who was starting to vibrate a bit with nervousness.

"Who are these people anyway?"

"Sultan Adsteen was supposed to come with his wife, but he sent a message to my father to say she wouldn't be attending. It would just be him," Jasmine said. "He says he a lot of plans for Agrabah."

Mozenrath scowled. "You don't even know this man. Are you going to trust him in making decisions important to the city?" He looked to Aladdin, waiting for a response. "This is all going to be yours one day. What do you think?"

"I… don't know. Then again, I've been questioning my trust a lot as of late." He stared Mozenrath down. He had a point. Mozenrath's scowl deepened. "I don't know why it matters so much to you. You wanted this place to be a wasteland."

"I did not," Mozenrath replied lightly. "I wanted to own all five deserts. I didn't say anything about turning it into rubble."

"But you would have if it got you what you wanted."

"Well, of course."

Jasmine relieved the tension. "Well, you both look wonderful."

"Thanks," Sadira said absently.

Mozenrath glanced around. "Where's the old man?"

"My father?" Aladdin asked.

"Yes. Your father." It made Mozenrath sick to his stomach to think a man that interesting had taken part in Aladdin's existence. Then again, Aladdin wasn't quite as irritating as he remembered…

"I… don't know," Aladdin pondered, looking worried. "When was the sultan supposed to get here?"

"His parcels are arriving now. He should be right behind them."

"Well," Mozenrath said, moving past Aladdin with a smirk. "At least we know where he is."

…

Cassim always did enjoy when royalty came to the Palace at the same time he did. It was a smorgasbord of easy things to steal. And even if he was the retired King of Thieves, he was _still_ the King of Thieves. He pocketed a few gold necklaces and some gems easily. It was almost a simple pickpocketing job, like taking candy from a baby. Royals were always so careless with their things. He never really understood why they had to travel with them when they went places either. He supposed it must have been a chance to show off their wealth to other people of wealth. He plopped a particularly good-looking, encrusted gold bracelet into his pocket and continued on his merry way. One thing he'd learned about stealing – unless you can't get caught, don't take enough for your victims to realize anything's been taken.

There was something odd about the things he took, however. When he'd managed to slip away to the room he'd been given to analyze them further, he found that they were giving off some strange energy. He could feel it, warm, almost buzzing against his hand. He peered at it curiously, trying to figure out where exactly it was coming from.

"Interesting…." He mused. Maybe the thing she stole had more value than just what they would sell for.

"Dad, did you steal that?" Aladdin asked, stepping into the room with a groan.

"He won't miss it, I'm sure."

Aladdin furrowed his brows, giving him a look.

"Oh, calm down, son. I'm going to use it for good, I promise. It'll be used for much more than he would use it for."

"Dad, you're in a Palace right now. Why do you have to steal?"

"I have sticky fingers. I suppose I'm just a kleptomaniac." He grinned at Aladdin. "Nobody's perfect."

"So I was right." In came Mozenrath, looking ten times more amused than Aladdin. Jasmine was turning Aladdin into a fuddy-duddy. Mozenrath blinked a couple of times. "This is what he brought?"

"No, this is what I _took_ from what he brought."

Mozenrath picked up one of the gems, floating it above him palm. It glowed and diffused into…

"It's a rock."

"What?" Cassim gaped.

"It's a rock. He tricked you." Mozenrath lifted the others from the bed; they all suffered the same fate.

"That's… that's impossible!" Cassim was dumbfounded.

"Probably a security measure," Mozenrath said. "To keep people from taking his things. I'm guessing he might keep his real riches on his person or hidden more privately." He eyed the rocks with a frown. "But… the question is how he attained the magic to make these. This is good work."

Cassim scowled. He'd been duped. "A man this rich could probably hire people to do it for him."

"You're probably right. Here, Aladdin," Mozenrath tossed him the rock. Aladdin caught it, albeit a bit clumsily as he wasn't expecting it. "Maybe you should do this when you're Sultan. It's effective."

Cassim felt a sudden dread wash over him as Mozenrath made his way to the door.

"Why don't we go say hello?"

…

It had only been a few minutes and Sadira had already latched back on to Mozenrath's arm, her lips drawn into a thin line, eyes wild, like a caged animal. Mozenrath actually didn't mind, because he was a bit nervous too – though he didn't really know why. He was on edge, eying the approaching figure with worry. He glanced at Sadira.

"Why are you nervous?" he asked, in hopes that maybe her reason was the same as his and he could figure it out.

"I don't know," she said. "I just am…" She shook her head. "Something just seems off. Do you feel it too?" Her fingers scratched absently at his arm.

He nodded vaguely as the doors were pulled open. "A little."

She leaned her head against his shoulder and he tensed up, but he didn't move her. She was a little strung out. He figured if she relaxed, he might too.

Still, he couldn't stop himself. "Have you forgotten that I'm a dangerous sorcerer?"

"Have you forgotten that I taught you how? You won't hurt me. You like me."

Mozenrath stared. "No I don't."

She chuckled. "Yes, you do."

Well, at least she was relaxing.

"Everyone, I would like to introduce, Sultan Adsteen." Mozenrath bowed his head, eying the reflection in the floor to get a glimpse of his face before anyone else.

He was gaunt, old. Not ugly, but definitely aged. His eyes were the darkest Mozenrath had ever seen, boring into the reflection in the floor, almost as if he _knew_ Mozenrath was watching. He smiled, his mouth full of white, almost pointed teeth.

"Now, now, no need for this properness. You, too, are royalty, Sultan."

The Sultan gave a bumbling laugh of friendliness and everyone was allowed to face the man that was supposedly going to help Agrabah.

He looked familiar, actually, dressed neatly in clothing of the finest silk and satin, littered with gold trim. He had a long gray beard and those black, black, eyes. His nose was long and distinguished, much like the rest of his face. And he just…

Well, he really did look familiar. There was a sinking feeling in his gut, a chill that he couldn't shake. He fought the urge to shudder under the man's scrutinizing eye.

"This is the guy who's supposed to help Agrabah?" he muttered to Sadira, masking his discomfort with confusion.

"He's pretty old," she whispered back.

"Yes, sir, we will have a great celebration in honor of your visit, and a feast!" The Sultan cried joyously. "It will be absolutely marvelous. Please, please, come meet my daughter and my son-in-law."

Mozenrath tightened his jaw, wary of this new person within his space, chatting casually with Jasmine, who seemed completely at ease, and Aladdin, who seemed unsure. It was almost amusing. Aladdin was a fast-thinker when it came to dangerous adventures, but a simple conversation with royalty had him fumbling over his words.

Mozenrath supposed that they all had things they were good at and things they were bad at.

"And who are these charming young people?"

Mozenrath stiffened even further, completely rigid against Sadira's hands. She looked at him, then back at the man.

"Oh, hello," she greeted, flashing a large grin.

"This is… um…" Aladdin looked at a loss. "He's…"

"I am Aladdin's brother," Mozenrath stammered. "I have come… with my wife," he gestured to Sadira, "To celebrate his wedding… a bit late, of course."

Everyone looked a little surprised to say the least. Oddly enough, the man in front of him looked almost like he was going to choke. He couldn't bring himself to question it though. He just worried that he'd already been caught in his lie. He blew a stray hair out of his face.

"Yes, um, we've been… detained in our travelling," Sadira said, giving a caress to Mozenrath's arm, molding quickly into the role of wife as if it was the most natural thing she could do.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your names?" Sultan Adsteen's eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"Sadira," Sadira introduced herself, "And this is-"

"Makin."

Sadira looked at him questioningly. Sultan Adsteen looked half-mortified, masking it behind a smile.

"I see. Well, it is nice to meet the royal family." He turned to the Sultan. "If you don't mind, I'd like to see my quarters."

"Certainly, certainly. Right this way."

The Sultan ushered him off, the guards following behind closely.

"Why did you lie?" Aladdin asked after a long silence.

"I… I'm not sure. I guess I just didn't want him to know who I was."

Aladdin grimaced. "I guess that was for the best."

Mozenrath wasn't so sure about that. He didn't want Sultan Adsteen to know who he was, but then again…

_He_ really didn't know who he was either.

_**End Chapter Twenty**_


	21. Beneath the Surface

_**Chapter Twenty-One**_

Mozenrath dreamt that night. He couldn't remember the specifics, hard as he tried when he awoke, but his right hand ached violently with the mere shadows and remnants of the dream. He couldn't get Adsteen's scary dark eyes out of his mind. Like he knew something… something bad.

He sneaked out of his room.

He'd always had a good sleuth side to him, and he never knew why. He moved quickly and quietly down the hall, the marble floor cold against his feet. Every once in a while, a palace guard would make himself known, and Mozenrath would dart behind a potted plant or up a curtain, making sure he wasn't seen. Yes, he was basically welcome in the Palace for the time being, but wandering around the place in the middle of the night seemed suspicious.

Eventually he made it to his destination, his eyes playing on the room of their guest, Sultan Adsteen. He couldn't help but grimace at the awful smell that wafted from the room, putrid and rotten and nauseating. He nearly gagged the closer he got. But he forced his stomach contents down and sneaked a peak through the doorway.

Everything seemed in order. There was nothing that odor could be coming from. Adsteen was awake. He was standing at the window, his arms folded as he looked out over the desert. Mozenrath frowned, looking him up and down. Where had he seen him before?

"Sir?" Asked one of his servants. "What troubles you? You should be sleeping."

"He's _remembering_," Adsteen hissed at the hunched man. "We don't have much time."

"Yes sir."

He turned in Mozenrath's direction. Mozenrath took off. He didn't want to be caught spying, especially by a man that sent chills down his spine with a simple look. He moved like an animal being sought for prey, his breath hitching in his throat until he burst into the garden, his feet gliding onto the sand.

He almost didn't see Sadira, sitting on the rim of the fountain. Her head popped up, eyes bright and blue in the moonlight. He nearly toppled backwards at the sudden realization that she was there. He wasn't very proud of the half-squeak he let out when he skidded to a stop.

"What are you running from?" she asked.

Mozenrath turned and looked behind him. Nothing. He shook his head.

"I think I outran it."

She smiled at him, and it warmed away the fear in his gut. She had some sort of magical ability, that he was certain.

"And you?" He settled next to her, folding his hands in his lap.

"I couldn't sleep. I guess I was outrunning nightmares."

He understood where she was coming from. He had a new one almost every night. He lived one as his hand was eaten away by the gauntlet.

Strange, he mused. The gauntlet was one of the furthest things from his mind.

"Ah, those are hard to outrun."

"Mm," she agreed, twirling a finger in the pool of water. "I don't know what it was, but I feel like they were brought on by that new Sultan…"

Mozenrath was thrilled that he wasn't alone. "I know exactly what you mean!"

"He's creepy…" Sadira said.

"Beyond that."

"I know that you felt it too," Sadira murmured, turning to look at him. "I know you felt the strange energy he was giving off."

"Even moreso from his valuables," Mozenrath replied. "I'm thinking he must have hired a magician of some sort to perform the spells to hide his valuables. Maybe he also requested some sort of security spell?"

"Or maybe he did it all himself."

Mozenrath raised his eyebrows. "Hm?"

"I don't know. It doesn't feel like a spell to me. More like an aura."

She glanced at him, then grinned. "I'm right! You agree with me! I can tell by the look on your face!"

"What gives you the idea that I'm so expressive?"

"Well you looked pretty terrified when you came running out here. Or is that just how your face looks when you go wandering around the Palace on your own?"

"Maybe I was terrified of the harpy sitting on the fountain," Mozenrath replied with an oddly good-humored smirk, splashing her.

"Hey!" She splashed him back. "This harpy is playing your wife, you know. That was your idea."

He followed it with a bigger splash, and soon enough she was tackling him into the fountain. His head went under first, a bloom of bubbles bursting from his lips as his arms flailed above the surface. When he broke the water, he sputtered and coughed, his lungs damp. She was giggling like a fool, soaked and really in no place to be laughing.

"You will absolutely pay for that," Mozenrath said, summoning water between his palms and sending it at her face.

She yelped, toppling back in the fountain, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him down with her.

He didn't let go of him when she arose, her hands falling gently on his chest as she looked up at him, short on breath. He was well aware when his hands curled around her waist.

When he had defeated Destane, he had gained power of ultimate magnitudes. He knew he could have forced anyone he wanted to do his bidding. But at the same time, he found himself pulling further and further away from any human contact, even those he could command. He preferred the company of the dead, probably because he knew he would be joining them soon enough. Human relationships only served to get in the way and complicate his goals.

He also had never had one. Not one he could remember. Which made his entire body freeze up at the very thought of pursuing one. But he'd been given a second chance at living, and things had been going well. He was starting to think he had been wrong in how he had gone about his life before.

At the same time, he couldn't remember whatever led him to kill Destane.

Sadira smiled at him coyly. "See, _now_ you look terrified."

She was probably right. But when she kissed him, it all melted away into a haze. He honestly didn't quite know what to do but to kiss her back. It was short and sweet, and when he pulled away, she looked like she had stars in her eyes. Or maybe it was a reflection of the oil lamps lighting the garden. Something.

"I should… I should go," Mozenrath said, gesturing toward the Palace, his arms feeling a little loose and floppy.

"Y-yeah, of course," Sadira replied, all smiles and giggles, like the young girl she was. "Right."

The both clambered out of the fountain, and Mozenrath made his way back to his room to change.

"Master? Where did Master go?"

Mozenrath pulled on a dry set of clothes, ringing his hair out. "I don't think I went too far, Xerxes."

He had to admit that he felt like he was walking a bit lighter. He wasn't quite sure what he was doing, but she was surely a nice distraction from that dreadful pit in his stomach. Though her words brought him back to his initial subject. An aura…

"Xerxes," Mozenrath commanded. "I want you to keep an eye on this new Sultan hanging around the Palace."

"New Sultan? New Sultan?"

"Mmhm."

"Yes, Master."

"Oh, and Xerxes?"

"Yes, Master?"

"Be discreet."

"Yes, Master."

…

"Sadira, you look happy," Aladdin commented as they made their way down to breakfast.

She stole a quick glance at Mozenrath. He was still unsure, but it was kind of interesting, being admired like that.

"I _am_ happy," Sadira said, smiling.

"Why all of the sudden?"

"Why not?"

He did like that she wasn't kissing and telling. He wasn't sure if they'd ever talk about it. Aladdin must have noticed the smug look on his face, though, and cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Surely _you_ don't have anything to do with it."

"Please, Aladdin. According to you, I'm absolutely a miserable human being. How could I make a nice girl like her happy?"

As soon as his hand clapped on Aladdin's shoulder, Mozenrath felt his head spin.

"_You need to listen to me. She's not getting better. I don't have a choice."_

"_Don't. Please!" the young boy cried._

"_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry… but this will be for the best." He sighed. "I've heard this man is really powerful. I'm going to talk to him, see if we can work something out. I know… I know he could help her."_

"_Are… are you sure?"_

"_I'm sure."_

"_Mozenrath," the little boy said. "Mozenrath. Hey."_

"Mozenrath," Aladdin stressed, waving a hand in front of his face. "Hey. Are you in there?"

Mozenrath shook his head. "What?"

Sadira had a hand on his back, tiny and gentle as she looked at him with concern. "Are you okay?"

He looked at Aladdin, and for a second, he swore he saw that little boy. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

His chest ached. He ignored it.

"Are you sure?" Aladdin asked in earnest through his mop of hair. "You look dazed."

Mozenrath stared at him like he was looking at him for the first time. "She'll be fine…" Then, he corrected himself. "I'll be fine. I'll be fine. I promise." His grip on Aladdin's shoulder tightened before he released it.

Sadira, looking a bit more relieved, gave him a pat on the back and made her way into the grand hall. Aladdin turned to join her.

"Aladdin… wait."

"Hm?" He turned back, curious.

"I know your father, but, whatever… um… happened to your mother?"

Aladdin's face fell. "She died when I was little."

"How did she die?" Mozenrath's voice felt smaller in his throat than he was used to.

Aladdin sighed. "She was… sick. Really sick. I don't like to talk about it." He turned away again.

"Well," Mozenrath stopped him again. "You probably won't believe me, but… I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

There could have been a million things he was apologizing for, but he couldn't bring himself to clarify. Aladdin clearly wanted him to, but when he heard nothing more, turned and walked away.

Mozenrath couldn't quell the hurt in his heart. And he wasn't even sure why he was hurting. And his chest was burning.

"Ah, you're lagging a bit behind this morning, sir," came the low, gravelly voice over his shoulder. Sultan Adsteen brushed past. Mozenrath held his breath. "You should eat. You don't want to be too tired to miss out on the _festivities_ later."

Mozenrath cut his eyes in the man's direction, putting on as convincing a smile as he could.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."


	22. Through My Words

_**Chapter Twenty-Two**_

Mozenrath knew one thing. The Sultan of Agrabah sure knew how to throw a party. He straightened his coat, peering out over the large banquet, filled with people of the highest wealth and power. Cassim was making his rounds, the perfect gentleman to everyone he spoke to and all the while robbing them blind without so much of a blink. It was really one of the most impressive acts Mozenrath had ever seen. When he finally sidled up near him, he smirked.

"You don't strike me as the type to be a wallflower, boy," he said.

"You don't strike me as the type to be so twisted, old man," Mozenrath replied without missing a beat.

Cassim shrugged good-heartedly. "What can I say? Once the King of Thieves, always the King of Thieves."

Mozenrath shook his head, chuckling. "Well, sir, you do not disappoint."

Cassim patted Mozenrath's shoulder, smiling at him. "Why don't you go dance?"

"I don't dance."

Mozenrath was actually keeping an eye on Adsteen, and he could see Xerxes slithering high above the crowd, unnoticed. Xerxes had told him the night before that the man had been wandering around the Palace, but Xerxes had lost him at one point in the night.

"Surely you want to dance with her," Cassim suggested, gesturing toward Sadira.

Mozenrath fought the redness in his cheeks as Cassim gave him a look like _he knew_. "Why would I want to dance with her?"

"Well, she looks stunning, and I'm fairly sure you like her."

"What gave you that idea?"

Cassim chuckled. "I may or may not have witnessed a certain couple playing in a fountain the other evening." Then, he shrugged, taking on a breathless, humored, "But what would I know? I'm just an old man."

He pushed Mozenrath toward her.

"Hi," she greeted.

She was stunning, dressed elegantly in deep, midnight blue.

"Hi," he replied, and it didn't quite sound excited as he'd hoped. His eyes trailed over to where Sultan Adsteen had been. He was gone.

"Are you okay?"

Mozenrath gave off half a nervous laugh. "Yeah, fine. Er… want to dance?"

She beamed at him.

Mozenrath was worried. That feeling of dread had not gone away, and everything seemed askew. And his chest still ached.

He had a reason to dread. Especially when Razoul came traipsing up to him, roughly grabbing him by the arm and pulling him away from his dance partner.

"Well, boy, time to go. I knew you'd screw up eventually."

Mozenrath's brows furrowed in confusion. "What? What are you talking about?"

The entire room's eyes were upon him. He ripped his arm from Razoul's grip, backing away with anger starting to bubble in his veins. "Is this some kind of a joke?"

"Razoul, what are you doing?" Aladdin was already butting in, ready to argue if need be. "Just because he pulled a few tricks at your expense—"

"The gauntlet has been stolen. Now, who do you think could possibly be the theif?"

The blood rushed away from Mozenrath's face, and he stood, slack-jawed at the realization. "W-what?"

Aladdin's eyes widened, and his shoulders slackened.

He was disappointed.

"Aladdin," Mozenrath started. "I didn't do this-"

"Save it," Aladdin growled, not looking Mozenrath in the eye. "That's what you came here for, and you got caught. Take him to the dungeon."

"But he didn't!" Sadira argued. "He didn't! When would he have had time?"

"According to our guest, he was seen sneaking around the Palace just last night!" Razoul's voice was stubborn and haughty. Mozenrath scowled at his ignorance.

"Why on earth would I try to _steal_ the gauntlet? I don't even need it!" He clenched his fists, feeling his palms burn. "I can do my own magic. I don't need a stupid glove."

The statement hung in the air just long enough for him to realize that only a short time ago it would have sounded ridiculous. Absolutely insane, even.

"Whatever you say. You're still going to the dungeon. Come on."

"Wait, wait a second!" Mozenrath wrenched out of the guard's grip again.

"I will not kindly escort you again, boy!"

He looked to Aladdin. Aladdin still wouldn't look. "Aladdin, you have to believe I didn't take it."

"Why should I?" Aladdin's eyes were dark when he finally looked up. "You've always been evil and heartless. Why should I even have begun to think that changed?"

Mozenrath felt his hear t plummet. "Check my room! Check everything I own! I don't have it! Aladdin!" The guards dragged him from the room.

Before the doors closed, he saw Cassim rushing over to his son, caught words somewhere similar to _What was that all about_? And Sultan Adsteen… standing next to Jasmine and her father. Both were talking cheerily to him, but he wasn't really listening. He was glaring Mozenrath down, eyes black as coal – dangerous.

Then, he smirked.

Mozenrath's skin went cold.

…

Back in the dungeon.

Mozenrath huffed, eying the chains binding him to the moldy brick wall. His head dropped.

"Who was I kidding? There's no way he would have believed me," he said to no one, his heart aching.

And as much as he didn't want to admit it, it mattered to him. And he knew that Sultan Adsteen was up to no good. Aladdin and Sadira and Cassim and Jasmine… all of them were in danger. He pulled at his restraints to no avail.

"Ugh, how did this happen…?"

How _did_ all of it happen? He had no idea. He just wanted everything to make sense. The memories to come back. He closed his eyes, and he could see a face, a pale, beautiful, face, twisted in pain, deep ruby lips pulled tight.

"_Hold on just a little longer, okay? You're going to be alright. I promise. I promise."_

He could almost feel the cold hand in his own, clammy and trembling.

His eyes fluttered open, a deep pain in his chest, bringing him out of his reverie. He gritted his teeth.

…

"I can't believe this," Aladdin said, his brows furrowed. "I can't believe I even began to trust him. I don't know why I ever thought it was a good idea."

"Because he didn't _do_ it!" Sadira argued, just as put off by the situation. "I'm telling you, Aladdin. I know in my heart that he didn't take that gauntlet."

"Oh? Well who did then?" Aladdin challenged, eyes blazing and hurt.

Sadira chewed her lip. It wasn't her place to say. She knew that she could get in a lot of trouble for speaking badly about visiting royalty. Aladdin followed her eyes to Sultan Adsteen.

"Him? Why would he take it?"

"I—I don't know!" Sadira sighed. "But you don't think he's the least bit strange?"

"Strange, maybe. But that doesn't give him the motive that it does Mozenrath."

"Yes, but why didn't Mozenrath _use_ the gauntlet if he has it?"

Aladdin ran his hands down his face, frustrated. "Look. We'll… we'll figure everything out after the party. I don't want to cause any more scenes."

Cassim crossed his arms, looking toward the door that Mozenrath had disappeared behind. He frowned.

"I'm trying to figure out something," he said.

"What, Dad?"

"If the boy did take the gauntlet… why would he sacrifice his life for a power he already has?"

"The gauntlet's more powerful than he is."

"No, it's not," Sadira added. "It just concentrated the power to his hand. He had to already have had magical abilities to even use it."

"Destane was a sorcerer even more powerful than Jafar," Aladdin said. "Why would he make a glove to concentrate his energy to one hand?"

Sadira swallowed. Her eyes refocused behind Aladdin, out on the balcony.

The sky was growing black, clouds filling the horizon. The air gave a long, low rumble.

Aladdin turned around. "What?"

…

"Get me out of here!" Mozenrath yelled, pulling furiously at his chains.

"Quiet, boy!" came the voice of the guard outside his cell.

Mozenrath seethed. "I'm telling you that everyone is going to be in danger if you don't let me go!"

"And I've been told that everyone would if I _did._ So!"

Mozenrath strained against the metal cuffs on his wrists, turning them red and raw with the effort. He hung his head with a sigh.

"I promised everything would be alright…" he whispered. He didn't know why it hurt. He didn't know what lay behind the small bits of memories he had recovered.

But he _promised._

Mozenrath's hands grew hot, sweltering, the room filling with light, and the cuffs snapped away from his wrists with a loud clang. When the guard whirled around, Mozenrath wrapped him in the chains, hanging him from the ceiling.

"I'm sorry," he said to the guard, genuinely meaning it. "But I can't let them get hurt. You'll thank me for this later."

The guard, blood rushing to his face, glared. "I doubt it."

Mozenrath shrugged, turning to make his way out. Then, he paused.

Why should he go up there? The guards would only cuff him again. Aladdin hadn't taken one moment to even try to trust that Mozenrath was telling the truth. The blood was on Aladdin's hands, not his. He crossed his arms, frowning. He was angry at Aladdin for turning on him so quickly. He knew he wasn't perfect but…

He sighed.

Maybe Aladdin was right. Maybe Mozenrath didn't deserve his trust. Things had changed, but he hadn't really given Aladdin any reason to believe that it wasn't all an act.

The building gave a dangerous rumble – the source, above him.

"Hang on," Mozenrath murmured. "I'm coming."


	23. The Hollow Years

_**Chapter Twenty-Three**_

(Author's Note: I know, I know. It's been a year. But I refuse to let this thing go til it's done. Just bear with me guys! I'm a little rusty.)

The Palace gave a dangerous rumble and Mozenrath slid toward a wall, potted pants lurching from their places and shattering to the floor in a mixture of soil and sand and terracotta. Mozenrath dodged a toppling statue, scraping up his knee. He grimaced. Getting upstairs was not going to be an easy task. He looked down at his hands, angry. He wished he could harness his true power. He knew he had it. He'd experienced it. But it only came in moments, little slivers of light, just like his memories.

It was a little annoying.

He slipped around a pillar heading toward the stairs, his heart hammering in his chest, his breath shallow in his lungs. He had to get upstairs. He had to get upstairs. He had to-

"AAAAUGH!" he yelped, a sudden pain radiating in his chest. He crumpled to the floor, grasping the offensive spot with a scowl.

He knew what he'd see when he looked up. The three old geezers, with their dark hoods and creepy cold hands surrounded him, whispering enchantments.

"Why. Do. You. Always. Have to. Make. My life. So. HARD?!" Mozenrath propelled onto his hands, delivering a swift kick to one of their ankles, knocking them to the floor. The pain in his chest lessened and he headed at the others with a burst of fervor. "I'm DONE with you!"

He grabbed one by the arm, twisting it behind his back when – _craaaaack!_

The skeletal, cold, grotesque arm popped away from the shoulder and lay slack in Mozenrath's hand. Mozenrath jolted, jumping back and dropping the severed limb. The blood ran out of his face. The hood fell back to reveal the twisted, gray-green face of... what could have been a mamluk at one time, Mozenrath supposed. It was far more disfigured than the bumbling corpse-like individuals he used to create. The skin was rotting away at the edges, and there were two dark gaping holes where eyes were supposed to be. The skin was stretched around toothless gums, and a low, raspy rattle crept from a long, withering throat. A black, ink-like blood seeped from where the arm had become detached, staining the cloak and dripping from the remains of the fabric. And the rattle shifted to a high, earth shattering shriek. The two other men joined in, piercing Mozenrath's ears like banshees, paralyzing him with their pitch.

Black sand poured from the ceiling in waves, like a giant hourglass, pelting Mozenrath with the sharp grains. And from the sand sprouted mamluks, grabbing at him, pulling him underneath. He struggled against them, gasping for air and choking on sand as it pulled him deeper and deeper and deeper. His eyes rolled back in his head.

This was it. He was going to die.

He thought of Aladdin and Cassim. Sadira. Jasmine. Everyone. They would fall.

He closed his eyes.

…

"What's happening?!" Sadira yelled over the loud, high pitched shriek, filling the palace.

Black sand began filling the room, raining down upon everyone. Lightning divided the sky in a flash, followed by the canon-like explosion of thunder. The entire building shook and people went down. Aladdin turned to Sultan Adsteen, who had begun laughing a low baritone rumble, his eyes darkening about the room.

"Yes, yes! It's all coming to fruition!" Aladdin ran at him immediately, but was blown back simply with a flick of the man's wrist. "Now, now, boy. I don't need you interfering."

"Aladdin!" Cassim helped his son to his feet. "Are you alright?"

Aladdin swallowed, a little breathless. "Y-yeah."

"Let me give it a go," Sadira suggested, lifting her hands. "Black sand is still sand, right?" She summoned waves of sand, spiraling around her hands in miniature twisters, then sent it toward him in one giant blast. He blocked it just as easily.

"Oh, I certainly wouldn't recommend you coming at me with my own creation. Allow me to show you how it's done."

The sand swallowed Sadira up in a giant whoosh before she could even let out a scream.

"NO!" Aladdin yelled, reaching for her, but she had already disappeared. "What did you do to her?!"

"Mm, not important. I would much rather you focus on me right now, okay?"

"Who are you?" Jasmine questioned, glaring him down.

He raised an eyebrow, reaching out to stroke her cheek. She wrenched away from him. "Princess, I'm happy to let pretty ladies know my name. But certainly my reputation precedes me."

"Aladdin, his hands!" Cassim yelled, pointing to the objects in question.

On the man's right hand was The Gauntlet. Except there was a matching, but less faded, one on the left.

"Oh, admiring my handiwork? Nice, isn't it? It's a shame I had to go through so much work to make another because of some rotten little brat."

Genie tried his best at shooting spells at the guy, but again, they were deflected.

"You still don't know who I am? I'm offended." The man floated off the ground, lifting his hands from his sides. Mamluks swarmed the palace. "I am DESTANE. But you can all call me MASTER!"

…

"_Aladdin? Aladdin! Stop running! Allah, do you know how much trouble I would get in if I lost you?"_

"_Makin. Relax. I know this place like the back of my hand."_

"_I am aware of that, Aladdin, but that doesn't mean that you can predict everything." He adjusted the bag on his shoulder with a huff. "Mother said to get the groceries and come right back."_

"_She doesn't know how long it takes us to get groceries. She'll be fine. Now come on! I wanna show you something."_

_Makin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're killing me. You are going to be responsible for my death. I swear."_

"_See, you're not actually worried about me though. You're worried about being without me."_

"_Don't be morbid."_

"_You're the morbid one." Aladdin clambered up a rocky facade, gesturing Makin to follow. "Always reading those creepy books about magic and mortality from that weird fortune teller guy."_

"_He's not a fortune teller. And I'm trying to figure out how I-" he paused. "You know."_

"_Yeah, that one time you magicked that sword. I remember. Now, unless you can magic me up here, shut up and start climbing."_

"_At least Sadira takes me seriously. What is this place?"_

"_It's a hovel! I found it the other night. Watch your head."_

"_Were you out sneaking around at night again?"_

"_Maybe. But look at the view!" He pulled back a ratty curtain and before them was the city, laid out in its entirety, glowing gold in the sun, and looming above it all, a beacon amongst the beauty, was the palace. It glittered and gleamed, like an unspoken dream. Makin fought the urge to reach out for it._

"_Wow."_

"_See? It's beautiful isn't it? One day, we'll be there. I know it. It'll be great."_

"_Brother, it will be magnificent," Makin replied dropping an arm over Aladdin's shoulder. "We'll never have any problems at all." He wasn't sure he actually believed Aladdin, but man did he admire the boy's ability to dream._

…

Mozenrath coughed and sputtered, but he still couldn't catch air. Blackness surrounded him, feeding on him like leeches, swallowing him whole. He reached out for something, anything, but it was only sand – just slipping through his fingers.

…

"_She's gonna know. It's dark. It doesn't take that long to get groceries."_

"_Mother won't be mad. Just say the Marketplace was busy."_

"_Lying is an awful trait, Aladdin. It's gonna get you in a lot of trouble one day."_

"_Maybe I get it from our father."_

"_Don't say that."_

_Makin opened the door slowly. "We can explai-"_

_His voice left him. He dropped his bag, vegetables tumbling out the top and rolling across the floor._

_"MOTHER!"_

_His mother was laid out on the floor, quiet and still, barely breathing, her lips blue. Makin ran to her, turning her over and holding her in his arms, trying to shake her back to life. Aladdin toppled in after him, fear apparent on his face._

"_What's wrong with her?"_

"_I- I don't know! She's... she's sick or something. I- I don't know what to do!"_

"_She needs help, Makin!"_

"_I- I'll go. I'll go find help. Stay with her!"_

…

Mozenrath felt a sudden burst of warmth slip around his wrist, holding tightly, and his body was propelled forward.

…

"_Back so soon? Need another book, do you lad?"_

"_Please, sir. I need your help."_

_The man raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"_

"_My mother- she's sick. I need you to-"_

"_Now, now, boy. I don't work for free."_

"_But-"_

"_Mm, no. I'm perfectly willing tossing you ridiculous books from time to time to keep you out of my hair, but if you want any real kind of sorcery, I suggest you have something to offer." The man's eyes darkened. Makin shrunk back._

"_Wh-what... do you want?"_

"_We'll discuss my payment later. Your mother is in need, yes?"_

_Makin nodded._

…

Sand slid over Mozenrath's skin like a gloss. It no longer felt like sharp shards of glass but like cool water, rushing past him as he was pulled forward and up, up, up.

…

"_You have to come with me."_

"_What?"_

"_She will be safe now. I have healed her. Your payment is due."_

"_I can't leave her and my brother alone-"_

"_You are my servant now. You have no choice." The man lifted his hand and Makin gasped, his wrists burning under magical shackles._

"_Leave him alone!" Aladdin yelled, running at the man, but he knocked him back easily._

_Their mother stirred on the bed, her face still twisted in pain._

"_She's not better. You tricked me! Aladdin!" Makin reached for his brother, but Destane put a hand over his eyes. His head seared and suddenly it all began to disappear. Aladdin's face. His mother. His father. He screamed._

"_You're my servant now. Mine, and mine alone."_

…

The air hit Mozenrath's face.

…

"_I am done being your servant, Destane!"_

"_Put that down, you insolent child!"_

"_TELL ME WHO I AM!"_

_He put the glove on and gasped at the pain. But after the pain came the power, warm and inviting and unlike anything he'd ever known. He held his hand out at Destane._

"_TELL ME THE TRUTH!" he commanded, tears in his eyes._

"_Boy, you don't even know what you're doing."_

_The room lit up in the gleam of the blast. Destane shrieked._

…

Mozenrath gasped, coughing and spewing, feeling a long stream of sand slide out of his throat.

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay. Don't move. It'll cut your throat." After a moment, Sadira ran a cool hand over Mozenrath's face, pushing hair out of his eyes. "There."

Mozenrath's vision cleared and he could see Sadira, a little cut up and dirty, hovering over him. And probably the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He threw his arms around her neck and buried his face in her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she asked, enveloping him in her arms gently and gingerly.

He couldn't answer her. He just held her tightly, a couple of tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. It all made sense. And knowing that after everything... _everything_, his mother hadn't been saved-

"You're scaring me."

Mozenrath jerked away from her. "Where's Destane?"

"He drowned me in his black sand. Luckily I could manipulate my way around in it. I found you and got you out. But I don't know exactly where we ended up."

Mozenrath stood, his legs still a little shaky. "Going through the halls is dangerous anyway. I'm assuming this place is overrun with mamluks."

"You'd be right."

Mozenrath headed for the nearest doorway to the outside. He could see the fountain, dismantled and leaking all over the grounds.

"Mozenrath." He turned back to Sadira and her bright blue eyes, full of hope and full of fear. "Don't think for a second that I'm letting you leave here without me."

"I didn't think of doing that in the slightest." He swung an arm around her waist and pulled her close. He whispered to her. "I remember." He kissed her.

With ease, he glowed, and began his ascent upwards, holding tightly to Sadira.

The sky was ominous.

But he wasn't afraid.

_**End of Chapter Twenty-Three**_


End file.
